And The Earth Will Shake
by rrreeves
Summary: .OCxSephiroth. All in our universe. He escapes Shinra and ends up in a forest, about to bleed to death. She stumbles upon him and wonders furiously who he is. But she takes him in. That said, she refuses to show her fear on her face, and that irks him.
1. Forest

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. This is a story written by a large fan, that's all... :)

**The Earth Will Shake**

_.OCxSephiroth. AU (all in OUR universe)  
He escapes from Shinra, ends up in a forest and is about to bleed to death.  
A cold, strange girl stumbles upon him, musing by herself that he's an elf._

* * *

Forest

* * *

If she had thought about it twice, it might have occurred to her that it was strange to just decide to take a walk like that. Especially since it had only been a spur-of-the-moment urge.

It had only taken her a minute to get ready – she only needed to put on her black sandals and leave. It was in the middle of summer, after all. It had seemed like a perfect idea to simply have a stroll. From behind her little house (or her family's mountain cabin, actually) she headed up towards the mountains, crossing the neighbours' green, yet almost flowerless meadows, then she headed into the forest that covered the mountainside. Insects were swarming about, but they didn't mind her as she rushed past them along the upwards-sloping path ahead. And thank goodness for that.

"This way it is..." she mumbled to herself, so quietly she hardly heard her own voice.

Her goal was one of the largest rivers in the area. Hurrying, she made her way across hayfields, in between tall, cone-bearing pines, through several small groves and over a small bridge made of a large, thick slab of stone. The flat stone was steady enough to keep her from worrying about the muddy, small stream running underneath. She pretty much ignored what she passed, afraid to be spotted by one of the diligent workers living at the nearby farms. Her neighbours tended to cooperate with each other – sharing fields, meadows and grazing lands for their cows and sheep and whatnot. And she just didn't feel like running into any of them. If she did, she would soon find herself being forcefully drawn into an awkward conversation that would last too long for her taste. Also, she didn't want to be distracted.

So she walked as far as she could, without paying much attention to anything else than the path ahead.

Only when the track started to fade – gradually becoming more hidden by bushes, shrubs and old twigs – she slowed down. Above her loomed old trees at least twice her age or older. Each of them were heavy with leaves and stretched up, as if fighting a long, unbearably slow battle for sunlight. It was sadly ironic to think of how easy it would be to lop them off their trunks, parting them from their stems as if new trees would grow up in a month or two.

"Goodness," she muttered under her calming breath, making a mental note not to turn depressed right now. If she did, there was a chance she would never get another spur-of-the-moment urge to have a walk. And then her parents would get on her case, with their pep-talks of 'health and unbearable sportiness', as her brother said.

She didn't mind walks, or going outside, but the _sun... The darn thing was simply too warm. Probably a hundred degrees fahrenheit. Maybe more. All right, __definitely _more.

_The river it is, then..._

Continuing on for a few more minutes until the path disappeared altogether, she moved in the towards the river she knew was nearby. From there she headed up a particularly steep slope and onto an old tractor road partially hidden by tall grass and shrubs. She followed it a few more minutes and came to a slow stop. On her right, tall, leafy trees covered the mountainside and cast long shadows that provided shelter from the scorching sun. On her left there were much fewer trees – most of them were small and sapless, the thin branches hanging down limply because of the summer heat.

She headed off in that direction, steering in between the rickety-looking small plants, jumping over a few fallen trees on her way. She stopped again when she got to a long, deep gorge. On the other side of the broad gorge were what looked like heaps of boulders stacked on top of each other. To her, they looked like they were just waiting to fall down.

And the river – her destination – was below. In the gorge.

There was a reason behind the walk she'd decided to have this morning. See, since it was unbearably warm and dry and rainless and sunny, perhaps the river would be small enough for her to climb down to the actual riverside. She'd never been down there before – usually the river was too dangerous. So she wanted to go down there and have a closer look.

Although the stream was still flowing by quickly, it really didn't have as much vigour as usual. The sun did its very best to turn everything into fizzling, melting stains on the ground. Personally she had felt better. She had left home fast, and hadn't offered water a thought at all, which left her dizzy after her rushed walk up where she was now. Knowing she should drink some water, and that the river was as clean as it could get as far as she knew, she searched for a way down. She followed the edge of the wide, deep gorge that had undoubtedly been formed by the river after countless years of eroding. For a while she watched the gorge warily and kept walking until the ground sloped down slightly. Then she made her way down, climbing a little when the need arose.

The sun barely reached down where she was. The river had formed into what looked like a _pool_: On her side of the shallow pool, there was gravelly sand and small round rocks spread about. The muddy, currently dry slope (her way down) was the only thing behind her. On the other side of the currently small pond, there were young trees, boulders and huge, scattered rocks, which had most likely fallen from the vertical cliff that loomed above. The cliff cast dark shadows that made it hard to discern one stone from the other. It looked like some sort of gloomy background.

She thought the river water would be lukewarm at first, but found herself pleasantly surprised when it was actually cool. Satisfied for the moment she sat down on a nearby stone and watched the pool and the stony background with a languid expression.

What a letdown.

To think she had come all the way up here just to see if the mighty river had weakened enough for her to climb down. It had, sure, but now that she was actually _there_ it looked disappointing. But what had she expected? It had all looked so interesting from a distance – as if something was hidden down there. Some kind of treasure. Anything. Pretty stones, forgotten items, things washed ashore, hidden jewelry... Childish things. Having settled like this, perched on an uncomfortably malformed stone, she gradually felt her earlier fascination (the forest was a pretty nice place to go hiking) weaken and wilt away.

...But then she spotted something.

She spotted something very interesting.

Something very interesting indeed.

As in interesting enough to make her wrinkle her nose, believing something was wrong with her eyes.

What first seemed like an abnormally dark, yet fine, smooth stone, with darker rocks beneath as support, appeared to her as a person's body. The sight itself was so unusual that she stared blankly for some long seconds, muttering loud exclamations in her mind a few times without moving. Her mind tried finding a logical solution to the predicament that gradually unfolded in front of her.

But no matter how long she looked, the sight remained the same. There really was a man on the other side of the currently not-so-vigorously-flowing river, and he had long, silver hair, wore black pants and a black leather coat – and black boots that came past his knees. When she looked closer, she also spotted something that was _not_ a thin, long, shiny sliver of stone, but rather an impossibly long sword.

The man seemed to be asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly, and his head was at an angle that didn't look too comfy – his neck bent forward so that his hair hid both his face and parts of his body.

When she finally determined that the previously-presumed-to-be-a-stone was indeed a man, she proceeded to wonder what in the world he was doing in this place. He was most likely a costume player or something along those lines. But for a cosplayer to manage to wander off this far into the wilderness was unheard of. Who would clothe themselves in such a magnificently well-made, high-quality costume - wig included - just to take a hike in the mountains? And how long had he been there? Was he crazy; a lunatic, a maniac? Other than that, the only logical solution she could think of was that he had lost some sort of bet while being drunk. Something along those lines. Then he had probably been unable to find the way down from the mountains.

But... what if he had gone ahead and fallen of the cliff?

The corners of her mouth turned down and her chest constricted a little. Then she glanced up to the vertical cliff above him. Though the sun managed to peek down and light her face with a few splotches of light, the other side of the river was bathed in shadows, which made it look far more dangerous than it had looked minutes ago.

Even though she wanted to say something about how ironically typical it was for herself to have her rare stroll interrupted (by a possibly injured man with an insanely long plastic sword and silver hair), she held back. If the man happened to be _dead..._ What would she do?

No, he was breathing. She could see it. His breath was even. So he was alive.

Getting to her feet while warily eyeing the still man, she walked straight into the pool of water. Her sandals would dry later, anyway. If they didn't, she would soak them in oil and burn them in disappointment. After all, she was compassionately getting herself soaked past her knees in order to see whether the man was injured, lost, or just had an extremely well-deserved hangover (considering he had somehow managed to end up here, in the middle of nowhere, where no one had ever even arranged a cosplay – costume party). The closer she waded, the more imposing he looked – even sitting in that slouched posture. What if he was one of those old and perverted men who only wore that kind of costume to have girls drool over him?

And if this were a dream, or something like a fairy tale from an old book, perhaps he was something even more special. Maybe a prince, or perhaps something else – something out of this world. Like... Like an elf, perhaps. Even like this, with his head hanging forward, he looked tall and fit. That leather coat hugged his arms in a fashion that flattered him rather mercilessly.

"Awaken from thy slumber," she mumbled archaically to herself, hoping he wouldn't awaken if that meant trouble for her. Looking closer, she found that his hair looked incredibly silky – it didn't look fake, like some cheap wig.

"..._Wake up,_" she attempted again, in a louder voice, and the man stirred. But then he was still.

So she waded towards him rather fast, water splashing about as she did, then she stopped right in front of him. He was sleeping among the stones and boulders, his arms splayed wherever there was room for them. If she stretched her arm _straight_ out, she would be able to touch his head. Instead, she squatted down a little (carefully avoiding to touch the water with certain parts of her body, because of embarrassing past experiences including water, pants and childish pee jokes). She reached out and poked his shoe. While doing so, she smirked for some reason. This really was like something out of a fairy tale: The princess wandered into the woods and found an elf prince sleeping, then kissed him and he woke up and they fell in love at first sight and they married and they lived happily ever after until they got ten kids at once who in the end ruined all the glorious love and peace. Something idyllic like that. If only things were that simple.

But she hadn't seen his face, so she didn't know if he was beautiful enough for her to call him an elf.

"Damn you if you ruin my expectations," she half joked quietly, trying to lean a bit closer and have a look at his face.

And behind his silver locks, even though she only saw parts of his face, was a face gorgeous enough to make her cringe. Pulling back with pursed lips and wide eyes, she spent some full seconds cursing him for his unreasonable beauty – how was it possible to look like _that_ when he had stayed here for who-knew-how-long? How could a _man _have that kind of face? It was a personal insult! Clutching her heart, she stared for some full seconds.

"...As I said, damn you." Then again, now she could call him an elf. Or elf prince. Or elf king.

Her spoken words were only half-hearted, because now her little stroll had turned into something even _more_ interesting and intriguing. The man still didn't stir. Thinking it was about time to stop her exploring and actually _wake up_ the man, she made sure her guard was up and that her face looked like usual – as if she hadn't just found an elf-lookalike in the mountains. _Perhaps he has a girly voice, _she mused, but mentally hoped for the opposite.

Then she reached out and nudged his shoulder gently – and was rewarded with a flash of pale colors which were actually his head snapping up and his arm shooting towards her.

She tried evading his hand, but he was much too fast – her wrist was seized and held still, whereas her attention was pretty much captured and imprisoned, so to speak, by his stare. If stares could kill, she would be a skeleton with a tombstone coming out of her mouth and one cross emerging from each of her eye sockets. That was how she felt. With green eyes engraving themselves into her mind, as if to make her beg him to kill her, he stared her down for a long second – his pupils thin slits. In spite of herself, she found herself thinking that those eye contacts looked extremely real, even up close. And his hair still didn't look like a wig. What had she thought earlier, about him being an elf? If he were, a more in-depth term would be dark elf or blood elf, or some other evil elf.

Was this how she would end her life? Indirectly waltzing to her own death because of a sudden and untimely urge to have a walk in the forest?

"Pardon me, but..." she managed in a shaky breath, stopping to check if he would let her continue. When he said and did nothing, and just remained in a sitting position with one hand around her wrist and the other dangerously close to his sword, she continued.

"I hardly believe I'm the one you're out to kill," she said in all honesty, slightly more collected now (only on the outside, though), which earned her a twitch. She regained her composure and calmed her expression.

And he must have believed her, because his grip around her wrist loosened and he let himself fall back against the rocks. He fell limp for a moment, not even breathing, so she didn't retreat and run for her life just yet. Even though she wanted to. Aside from the elf-like man's obvious beauty (and lack of chest hair, but that was another matter that she would not defile her mind with), something else and far more important and serious caught her full attention.

Blood. Lots of dark blood.

Both fresh and dry, running in small streams and even lumps from a small hole in his shoulder, and even more running from a disturbingly broad gash in his ribs. She had failed to notice until now, which was really incompetent of her, since he practically reeked of what smelled like rust. She had mistaken it for the smell of his clothes or something, since costumes tended to smell different from ordinary garments. That was what she assumed anyway.

Avoiding stating the obvious (since a phrase such as _'oh-mah-gaawsh, you need a doctor, man!!!')_ would really do them no good, she tapped the pockets of her black workout pants, but her phone wasn't there. True to her nature, she scowled darkly and coldly at her untimely mistake – she usually kept her cellphone with her.

"I... I'm taking you out of here," she stated and was rewarded with a scowl much stronger and darker than her own. Saying it looked evil would be no understatement. She was close to peeing in her pants here.

* * *

And so began their seemingly endless struggle to cross the shallow pool of water, climb up the steep hill to the scarcely vegetated area surrounding the river gorge, rest for a minute, follow the old tractor road, enter the forest, rest, exit the forest and head downhill, rest again, cross the block of stone that was a bridge, then rest and continue again. All the time she supported the frighteningly pale (and annoyingly heavy) man, keeping his left arm over her shoulders. And all the way she tried keeping her guard up. The man had attached that monstrous sword to his back and trod alongside her slowly all the way, clutching his gashes with his right hand. He walked on his own most of the time (at least partially), and the few times he was about to give in to unconsciousness and fall over her, he quickly regained himself and walked a few steps almost on his own. Occasionally she glanced up and saw him snarl soundlessly. She could tell without speculating that he was thoroughly frustrated that he was accepting help from someone like _her._ That just made her want to prove herself to him even more.

He left a small trail of blood behind them, though said drops were not very noticeable enough to cause a fuss if somebody saw them. When they crossed the bridge – the single white slab of rock – a single, small splotch of crimson blood stood out rather vividly, though. She hoped whoever saw it would think it was just from some animal that had been in a fight or something. An injured hare failing its attempt to outrun a predator, for instance.

Holding back whatever insults she had subconsciously conjured in her mind, she struggled on, her knees growing weak as she went, and their breaks becoming more frequent. Her face, however, remained languid and otherwise more or less expressionless. And her guard was up.

But she had an evil elf to save.

Whether she liked it or not, she had to sacrifice her own behind to get him to her house and call an ambulance. Until then, she'd try not to look at his angry, scowling face.

When they finally got away from the green meadows and out of the sun, into the shadows of the few not-so-well-tended trees in her small garden, she cleared her voice and nodded towards the two small buildings there – both wooden brown. One was her house – or actually her family's cabin, but only she lived there. The other building was really just an old building full of firewood and things that were at least five decades old. There was even an empty hen-coop and a still-functioning outdoor WC in there (which she didn't have to use, of course). As for her small house, it was large enough. The garden was impressive – or _could have been_ impressive, if only she had spent more time tending to it. All she bothered doing was to cut the grass. And she only did that when she knew her family was coming to visit.

"Take in the horrors of an unkempt garden and a not-so-tidy house, then perhaps you'll be _extra_ relieved when you leave," she said in a low, mocking voice as they staggered across the lawn and down some pretty much ancient stone stairs, then made their way up the porch and into the house. She speculated at the sound of her words for a minute – she didn't really feel as cold as she sounded. Maybe it was because the guy looked so hostile and good at the same time.

"I live here alone," she added. It was true. Her family wouldn't come visit for a while, either, sinche she was busy with her summer job.

In a way she was lucky that they were all gone. She could only imagine what her father would say if he saw this tall, leggy, impressively well-muscled, long-haired person with a weapon. To say the very least, her dad would start foaming at his mouth and get a heart attack while dialling the emergency number.

She walked through the small entrance hall and into the combined kitchen and living room. There, she let the elf-man-cosplayer sit down on the black sofa. Annoyingly enough, the man had _round_ ears like any other human, and not pointy ones. The sword on his back mysteriously appeared on the dark wood table, as if it had been there from the beginning. At least her precious sofa (given to her by her father) wouldn't be sliced into pieces. Only covered in blood. _Blood._ Her dad would get her for this. Hurriedly, she went to pick up a few pillows to prop under his knees (he had pulled his legs onto the sofa), but she quickly stepped back when he glowered darkly at her once more. The man refused to lie down and sat with a remarkably straight back, like some in-character-geisha-who-wasn't-really-a-geisha-but-an-elf. It annoyed her. At this rate, he would be out like a light and never wake up again. Then again, he was too tall to be able to lie down in that sofa without breaking his neck.

As soon as she turned away she frowned as deeply as she could, fuming with anger because of his ungrateful behavior and rude expression (though hers wasn't much better at the moment). Then she hurried off to find some first-aid equipment, towels for the blood, and her cellphone. Once she walked back in, something else than the two of them stirred and spoke up from the far end of the room:

"'The _fawk_ 'u doin' heear?" sounded the shrill voice.

Her elf-like patient quickly located and eyed the source of the voice: A red-, yellow- and blue-feathered macaw sitting on a T-shaped stand (made of dark wood) in the far end of the room. The parrot cocked its head and eyed the elf-man without saying anything else, as if expecting a reply from the silent man.

"...Injured person, meet John Smoth. John Smoth, meet injured person," she muttered languidly, then paused.

"And injured person, I would be Paige."

Gee. How observant of her to notice _now _that she hadn't introduced herself. It had to have something to do with the fact that she had felt content calling him 'elf' in her mind until now. What was _his_ name, then?

* * *

No matter how Sephiroth chose to perceive the situation, one fact remained unchangeable: He was more or less conscious and only stayed that way because he _willed_ himself to.

Even with his feet elevated on the off-white pillows that the young woman had (half-heartedly and forcibly) propped under his booted legs, he had to make an effort to keep himself from wavering. New impressions threatened to overcome him a few times as he attempted getting an overview of the room, but he looked around of old habit nonetheless. One never knew when knowledge about one's surroundings could be beneficial.

The combined kitchen and living room, as he presumed it was, had off-white walls and the ceiling was white, whereas the oak floor was light and very pale – nearly white. The furniture was dark, with the lamps as the only exceptions. Although it looked presentable, he could tell none of the articles were too expensive. There were a few large windows in the room, each framed by dark curtains long enough to almost touch the floor. The room looked warm, but that might have been an illusion caused by the summer light and one open window (next to which the parrot sat perched). If he were to judge by the number of chairs and the size of the house, only a select few persons (or only the girl) lived here. From there, he could proceed by presuming that this _Paige_ character was the one responsible for the interior design. The only door in the living room lead to the entrance hall. From his current position he had a hard time looking out of the window, though, so the view outside remained undisclosed to him.

"Where would this be?" he inquired.

To tell the truth, he had made his way to that dry river with materia – a materia that was not yet finished. That is, he had used a spell that was only half-developed. For all he knew, Shinra employees, Turks and Soldiers could be only a few kilometres away, searching for him.

"...Columbia River, Canada," she replied monotonously, observing him through blank, pale eyes.

Canada it was, then...

...To think that the spell had gotten him this far.

* * *

**R.R.**

(first of all: I don't live in Canada, and this girl – Paige – is not me. She's completely different. Just in case you were wondering ;)

And even though Columbia River really exists, all the persons, houses, farms (and cattle and parrots, for that matter), schools, place names and everything else that I'll be putting into the story from now on _are purely fictional._


	2. Aiming to Use the Masamune

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. All you Square Enix employees, I envy you and admire you to the ends of the world.

For this chapter, you may want to know what a Rubik's Cube is... ( google it, haha **:**)

* * *

Aiming to Use the Masamune

* * *

Canada it was, then...

To think that the spell had gotten him this far.

Not long ago, he had been in the middle of Russia, as far north as possible, reading documents that were not for him to read, and learning information that he was not supposed to learn. After finding out what the old reports said, he found no reason to stay with Shinra. Instead, he chose to cut off all ties with Shinra and its affiliates – but not before saying his farewells. Said farewells did not go according to plan, however. Certain persons were unwilling to let him leave. With whatever means necessary, they tried to trap and imprison him to stop him from leaving. Whether it was materia, magic, swords or bullets – or a combination of them – he fought them off easily. But only until they became too many for him to handle on his own. But even when matters were turning difficult, he stayed unhurt.

The ones that left actual pain and physical injuries on his body were the Turks and the Soldiers, the latter group having worked under his command in the past. Naturally, as he wished to escape with most of his pride intact (and leave Shinra weakened, of course), he retreated into the labs and searched through the racks of magical items and materias there. He only found a single, ancient object that could be of help: A pale, barely glowing green materia holding the _Warp_ spell. A variation of the _Exit_ spell, so to speak, but its range exceeded the other by far, but not without unspeakable dangers for the user. Needless to say – since the materia had carried him from Russia to Canada and left him completely famished – the materia was incredibly useful and extremely risky to use at the same time. It was not one he would use again. To put it bluntly, the _Warp_ spell had been his last resort. And he had willingly used it, well aware that he could end up in the middle of the ocean, or even in space.

"I'm going to call an ambulance," the woman half-heartedly informed.

"No." His reply was immediate.

She turned to him, wearing an oddly lethargic face. To be honest, her expression made her look sick – or disgusted. He continued:

"All hospitals keep records of whoever comes and leaves, and especially so upon seeing injuries such as my own," he reasoned. He had to prevent Shinra from finding him. They were most likely making all their subordinates watch the registers and whatnot of hospitals all over the world. And the number of Shinra's employees was not one to meddle with, nor was their level of expertise. They knew he had left with grave injuries, and therefore they _would_ find him if he went to hospital. His appearance made it no easier – silver hair and eyes such as his own were sure to bring about unwanted attention. If he were not careful, even media might find him in the hospital and question him about his appearance.

"But why-"

"I have my reasons," he cut her off, giving her an impatient stare.

She wavered for a little, her sickly pale skin an odd contrast to the otherwise warm room as she gave him a faint frown. She sported black workout pants and a short-sleeved shirt, with a long white top underneath. All the garments were completely ordinary, save for the fact that her pants were still damp up to her knees because of her earlier struggles by the river. With blue eyes as pale as her skin, she studied him warily while her light brown and equally pale hair swayed to one side. Sephiroth frowned as he studied her. Though most of her hair reached past her shoulders, her straight forelocks were cut in a manner he assumed was called a 'bob' (this, he only knew because Scarlet had tortured him and several other Shinra higher-ups about possible new Shinra uniforms and styles to go with it – needless to say, he had left before she finished). The light color of her hair did not look particularly... healthy. It only added to her already unhealthy look. Described with one word, she was _pale. _She kept watching him, her arms hanging beside her limply, one holding her cellphone.

How to convince her? ...Surely, however vexing he found it, she most likely viewed him as mentally disturbed.

"Would you listen?" he inquired. Somehow, simply blurting _'I am General Sephiroth, who has recently escaped from Shinra, an organization working secretly to uncover the mysteries of magic'_ would not do.

"I'll listen," she replied and sat down in the black two-seat sofa situated at the end of the table. She eyed him (who was sitting in a three-seat sofa, by the way) warily, holding onto her cellphone.

"I can hardly say I am _not_ a suspicious person." She looked at him, still wary. She was keeping her guard up.  
"...Instead I will have you know that I am armed for a reason, I was wounded for a reason, and I escaped for a reason." He paused, and she said nothing, but glanced at his sword.

"Also, I _am_ being followed. If I am found, it will have consequences for you and those who live with you in this house," he continued, his voice strict and hopefully convincing. He didn't know if this _Paige _lived with other _humans,_ but she did have a bird – that parrot. _John Smoth._

"Lastly, being a general, I know my physical state well enough to ensure you that I will be able to recover without medical help."

"...General?" she asked, sounding suspicious. "Do you have an ID?"

At that, he hesitated, but reached for one of his pockets and withdrew a card, whereon information about himself and Shinra stood written. He saw no reason to conceal it – he had no wishes to protect Shinra and the secrecy they so stubbornly tended. He reached out and she warily accepted, then read through it slowly. It was all written in English, although Shinra's base was in Russia.

Something about the card seemed to convince her. If he were mentally disturbed, he wouldn't have been able to fabricate a card which looked that real. She seemed to think likewise and handed back the card. Still, she seemed to be searching for a way to confirm that he was speaking the truth. Likewise _he_ sought for a way to convince her to stay silent about his whereabouts. He could hardly kill her off without drawing attention to his current location. With his blood all over the towels and some of the floor, his DNA wouldn't be difficult to find. The DNA datas would be saved in files and directories, and Shinra would trace them and eventually find him. Or were they really that desperate to find him? ...In any case, he wouldn't take any chances.

And this seemed to be a quite remote area. An ideal place to recover.

"Shinra is not anywhere near here for the time being. I have come a long way." He deliberately left out the words 'materia' and 'magic', which were his means of transport. Also, saying he had travelled all the way from Russia was not something he needed to tell her at the time being.

"How... do I know _you're_ not the bad guy?" she asked in suspicious voice, but not overly so. If he answered using the wrong words, she would no doubt call the police once she had the opportunity.

"Have you heard of Shinra at all?" he inquired, to which she shook her head and mumbled "Only what I read on your ID card".

"Exactly. The fact that they are concealing themselves means they are hiding something. For visual satisfaction I might add that the walls around their base reach higher and run deeper than your ordinary high-security prison or lab. It is being watched around the clock, twenty-four seven. Also – to add natural factors to human-made ones – the place is shrouded by sour weather and surrounded by snow and ice constantly."

Paige blinked once, and almost lethargically so. Really, the more he observed her, the paler she looked. She really _did_ look ill. Or was she trying to vex him by looking bored?

* * *

How could that man look so _healthy_?

If all this blood was fake and what was really going on was one of those hidden-camera-things, she would skewer said cameras. Repeatedly. Then she would burn them. Not that it mattered – the man in front of her seemed genuine enough. She believed him when he said he was a general. After all, if she ignored the old-fashioned (though undoubtedly dangerously sharp sword), he did have some very impressive, pronounced muscles and a perfect stance that could rival that of a stuck-up meerkat.

But dangerous or not – the two of them could come to some kind of agreement. A truce of sorts.

"You can stay here for a while. I'll cook food and get medicines and stuff, and I won't reveal your identity or location to anyone. In _return_ – just to be safe – I'll wrap your sword and hide it somewhere until you're well. And when you're ready to leave, I'll give it back without complaints or demands."

She must have said something unfavorable, because the elf-man-general's lips turned down for a moment and he looked at her with something that looked like murderous distaste. Being a general, he was probably not used to compromises such as these. But then he thought better of it. After all, if he _wanted_ to hurt her, he didn't need his sword to to it – he could wring her neck several times and tie her spine into a knot if he wanted to.

So he agreed.

* * *

Masamune was still on the dark wooden table, waiting for the girl to come pick it up and hide it. Meanwhile, Sephiroth was free to guard it and watch over it. He could even _use_ it if the need arose. His eyes flickered to the parrot - _John Smoth, _was it? For now, however, he left the weapon in peace and stayed silent. The young woman had seemingly forgotten all about it. She had even brought him hot water in a small tub. After placing the tub next to his sword she eyed him carefully, looking at his wounds as if to decide where to start off. In a way, she seemed reluctant to come any closer to him.

"I can tend to myself," he claimed. The statement was true enough. He did not wish for her to touch him and possibly aggravate his wounds with her inexperience.

She seemed oddly fine with this and simply flashed an empty expression before leaving again. That said, the kitchen was as far as she went - and the kitchen was in the same room as the living room.

Having her out of his way, Sephiroth gathered his concentration and let his good right hand rest on his left shoulder – on top of the towel-covered wound. There was undoubtedly a bullet in there that he needed to get out. And once he did, he would start bleeding again. His left hand still clutched his side, covering a stab-wound that was sure to be full of dirt and grime from the sword that had hit him. He had a few other cuts as well, but none were serious and all had stopped bleeding a fair while ago. All he had to do was to get out the bullet from his shoulder, then clean and bandage the wounds that were the most troublesome.

That said, he was aware that if he lost any more blood, he would certainly be out like a light before long.

* * *

Paige turned to check on him just as he thrust his hand into the injury in his shoulder. Groping for what she guessed was a bullet, he paid no heed to whatever it was _she_ was doing. Finding it best not to watch, she turned away, rattled at the fact that he didn't even utter a sound of pain. Surely, just now he had _scowled_ at the wound, but he hadn't cringed in pain or anything like that. If she added this perseverance to his muscles, it was pretty much safe to believe that he really _was_ a general. If he wasn't, then at least he was an elf or some other supernatural being. Still, with his cold words up until now, there was no telling if he was kind or not. Perhaps the people working for this _Shinra_ were actually good, while General _Sephiroth_ – as she had read on his ID card – was the bad guy.

Or perhaps he was a good guy who was... just... strict.

Her summer vacation had been spiced up considerably already. Come to think of it, if she had ignored her urge to take a walk earlier that day, would this... Sephiroth have died?

Hearing something hit the floor with a 'clink', she looked over her shoulder to see the man tending to the now bullet-less wound. Though it was now bleeding again, he cleaned it quickly and thoroughly (and surely painfully, even though that didn't show on his currently calm face), then he quickly found some bandage.

At this, she found it appropriate to leave the room – since he would have to remove at least one arm from his leather coat to apply the bandage to his ribs. She didn't need to see any bare muscles.

* * *

Some time passed after that, though exactly how much, Paige didn't know for sure. She wandered about in the bushy garden, thinking of somewhere appropriate to hide that monstrous sword of Sephiroth's. Her family's little cabin was small, but it had two floors. The upper floor was a little smaller because of the roof, though, and the lowest floor was half hidden by the sloping ground on the outside. Still, the small house held numerous more or less hidden closets, one in each room behind the beds. There was also a storage room inside, and it was so full of old toys and things belonging to the previous owners of the cabin that the floor wasn't even visible. Even the walls couldn't be seen in there. Concerning the other building in their garden (the wooden outhouse with the old, outdoor toilet), it smelled of mud and damp, old wood and was more likely to fall apart before her father would ever get to turn it into a bathhouse or whatever it was he was planning. Besides, if she put Sephiroth's sword there, it would get rusty almost right away.

...But that aside, she already knew where to hide it.

So she left the old, rotting outhouse in favor of the small, wooden main house, and went back inside. To her slight surprise, Sephiroth was sitting with both feet on the floor. He looked like he was about to stand up.

"I got my _eye_ on you," said John Smoth. The parrot was most likely at fault for Sephiroth's sudden wish to leave.

"Sorry about John Smoth. He has hip-hop-issues," she muttered, getting an overview. The sword was still on the dark-wood table, untouched, and the parrot's head was still attached to its shoulders, whereas Sephiroth's waist and shoulder were covered in bandages. He still wore the coat, only it was open now.

"Disrespect hip-hop an' I'll spit in you' face," screeched the macaw at her, rustling its feathers demonstratively. She ignored it. Speaking of which – maybe that was why her family had let her have the bird; because _she _was able to _ignore it._

"...Say, I have a guest room that's pretty clean and nice," Paige offered, only paying attention to her elf-patient. If she built up enough courage, perhaps she'd start calling him that aloud... _Mr. Elf-patient._ Or something even simpler.

He looked up, his stare oddly dark and threatening.

Perhaps she should just keep her thoughts to herself.

* * *

He stayed in the guest room all day, sleeping more soundly than he had done for a long time. The bed was not nearly as large as his old one, nor as expensive, and seemed to be handmade. The bed, like the few other objects on the room, were made of wood. The floor, the small stool next to the bed (which he was sure served as a bed-table of sorts), the venetian blinds, the small, but tall closet and the writing desk beside it were all made of light, warm-looking walnut wood. The exceptions were the door, the walls, the ceiling (part of which was sloped), the bed sheets and the curtains, which were all a warm off-white. To be frank it looked like a furnished sauna, or to venture even further, a small cottage or doll house. Everything in there was either white or wooden brown. At least he could sleep in peace.

But for some unexplainable reason, he only became more tired the more he rested.

After blinking only once, he found that day had somehow turned into evening. And when he allowed himself some shut-eye again, the room was almost jet black when he opened them. And every time he woke up, without fail, he felt more tired. Yet, at the same time, his wounds remained the same without healing, nor turning worse. At times he would sense the distant presence of a person and feel air cool him as if the door was opened and then shut. But he paid no heed to it – the presence was not threatening, and it did not disturb him. Something eventually caught his attention in the ceiling – spotlights. There were four of them, and they were of no particular importance, so he came to the conclusion that they interested him because he had first believed the entire house was too old to hold such a thing as spotlights.

When he finally mustered the will and strength to rise from the bed and sit on the edge, the tiredness simply vanished. Instead, his movements roused pain from his injuries. Just as he was about to scowl at this development, he caught sight of the stool next to the bed.

On it was a lone object. It was a Rubik's Cube, with nine colorful squares on each side.

...Was he expected to _play_ with this toy?

Feeling annoyance (and, to some degree, humiliation) stir in him, his lips curled down in a soundless snarl. He turned to take in the rest of the room for traces of other deliberately-left-behind objects. And surely enough, on the writing desk under the window was something else that had escaped him in his sleep:

A tray. On it was breakfast.

* * *

Paige sat on the kitchen island, lethargically and carelessly munching her breakfast while half-heartedly listening to the radio. Today, like any other day during summer, was an overly sunny and scorching day – perfect to stay inside, in other words. No more treasure hunting by rivers for _her._

Her patient had been sleeping for quite a while, and had only stirred slightly when she left some food and a Rubik's Cube in there. She had left supper last night, but had removed it this morning when she saw he hadn't eaten any. So at the moment, John Smoth was happily eating away at Sephiroth's uneaten supper while listening to the radio. There was some hip-hip on – and she'd be damned by the bird if she turned off the radio in the middle of it – so she left it on while gazing out the window in a pensive manner.

From where she was perched on the kitchen island, she could see countless mountains, forests in all kinds of green shades, open glades and most importantly, the great river slowly running past the village, glittering mercilessly in the early sun. The water flow was so slow she couldn't even see it was actually a flowing river – it looked like a giant pond or small sea more than anything. The small settlement where she lived was pretty detached from the rest of the world, with the exception of the paved road going south – in between all the small farms. The small hamlet of people here did what they wanted to all the time, unconcerned with whatever the world was busy with at the time. Most people had a side job to ensure income, but that didn't stop them from keeping cattle, building cottages and renting them out to tourists and passers-by (who rarely wished to leave). People took pictures and sold them to nature enthusiasts, and spent time trying to lure the rest of their distant relatives to stay there forever. That aside, both the people and the environment in general were really friendly and warm – perhaps except during the icy winters – and the view was absolutely magnif-

_'Clank'_ resonated the sound that interrupted her train of thought.

Looking up peevishly, but keeping her face straight, she saw Sephiroth stand before her. She instantly pulled up an arm to guard herself. His eyes were swimming about only a little, but other than that he seemed unnaturally healthy. In his grip on the surface of the kitchen island, he clutched the Rubik's Cube she had left in his room earlier. And he didn't look particularly pleased. In the background John Smoth said "I got my _eye_ on you," but she couldn't tell if the parrot was talking to them or if he was rapping along with the hip-hip on the radio. Personally she felt that her personal space _was being intruded_. The tall, intimidating elf-man remained unfazed.

"Were you expecting I would let myself be coaxed into playing with a toy such as this?" he muttered, his voice remarkably monotonous. Paige pulled her half-full plate of food closer, still aware of their close proximity. They weren't really _that _close, but still much too close for her taste. Yes, she had _carried him _all the way to _her home,_ but that was only because of his injuries.

"I didn't mean to insult you. I was just curious," she said quietly, completely unable to look back at him, so she looked at John Smoth. At least her face remained calm – just as she wanted it to.

"What about?" he demanded.

"Well, see, I've only managed to solve half of the Cube so far. And I was wondering if you're one of those who can solve it _really_ easily." He just struck her as that kind of person. Shouldn't he take that as a compliment?

He eyed the object briefly, then turned to the radio by her side, which probably annoyed him with its hip-hop music.

"But, uh, now that you're here... How 'bout I show you around a little?" she suggested. Anything to get him to step away from her a little.

* * *

She showed the way to the entrance door first. There were three rooms on the first floor; one combined kitchen and living room, one small entrance hall, as well as a small office with an old computer. There were also stairs in the hallway that led up to the next floor. They ascended the stairs and Paine explained that there were two bedrooms and one bathroom. One of the rooms (the one he currently used) was for when her family visited, she mentioned. Though this was hardly of any interest to him, he couldn't help but wonder how an entire family managed to share one bedroom - or one bathroom, for that matter. He refrained from asking, though, and instead he inquired if her family would be visiting soon.

"My siblings will stay at our grandmother's place until school starts. Mum works at the hospital in the city, so it'll take even longer for _her,_ while dad will most likely drop by next week. Or so he said some days ago, in the phone," she said thoughtfully, then seemed to remember something.

"And I haven't told any of them anything about _you_, but I'll come up with something."

Then, as if he were a tourist, she explained that if he ever tried opening the door leading to the storage room, he would drown in a river of toys, photo albums, old furniture, toys, ancient curtains, toys, Christmas decorations, toys, broken toys, beehives, cobwebs, dead mice and toys. To which he replied that he would never be foolish enough to do something so reckless. Though, considering that Masamune was _gone from the living room table_, it might mean that Paige had chosen to hide it in the storage room simply because he wouldn't go there.

...Just like Hojo had never expected him to wander about and read certain documents in the labs.

"Ah... This..." Paine managed weakly, sounding bothered as she took hold of the staircase railing.

Cocking his head and arching an eyebrow, he inspected her – her knuckles were turning white and her light hair and bobbed forelocks hid her face until she took a deep breath and regained herself. Looking quite displeased even behind her bored, though currently blushed face, she descended the stairs without a word and left him to do whatever he pleased. He was not particularly surprised. She didn't exactly look healthy. What with her colorless features – both her pale brown hair, skin and pallid blue eyes – it was easy to see she was ill. Judging from the unhealthy transparency of her skin, she most likely had anemia; lack of vitality and red blood cells. He let the thought roll about in his mind for a minute. Then he thought of how she had hauled him back here the day before, and became suspicious. Even after that, she hadn't exactly been exhausted... To which degree had he walked on his own? He couldn't recall.

But strictly speaking, shouldn't _he_ be the one suffering from anemia, after his blood loss?

* * *

How embarrassing. Turning dizzy just like that. She could already hear her parents: _Paige! We've discussed this – it is really important that you get iron supplementation! Eat iron-rich food! Your anemia can be weakened with-_ and then they would give her a long list of medicines and food that could work. Paige made a sour expression. But really – she already _had_ a few medicines, and used them when she needed to. This time was an exception. Probably because of all the blood yesterday. After dragging the elf-patient back to her house and offering him first-aid equipment with bandages, hot water, bandages and whatnot, she'd had to wipe the blood off everywhere. And the black sofa still smelled rusty. Anyone would feel unwell after seeing that much blood in a day. How come Sephiroth was up and running this fast?

"Do you happen to have a news channel?" she heard, and glanced over her shoulder from the comfy two-seat sofa she occupied.

"Yeah," she replied in a breath, then reached for the remote and turned on the TV. It was a cheap, but small flat-screen with colors strong enough to burn off her eyes, but at least it wasn't as bad as the 12 inch wide, portable, black, plastic box-like TV she'd had before. Summer job salaries came in handy.

And when she found the news channel and put the remote down, she spotted the Rubik's Cube next to it on the table. Scowling with shock for only a split second, then forcing upon herself her usual languid mask, she took it and turned it around several times. Then she glanced at Sephiroth, whose bored expression told her nothing except the fact that the news were not interesting, and looked back at the Cube.

He had solved the entire thing.

One side was white, one blue, one yellow and so on. Half a minute ago the two of them were upstairs, and he'd held the thing in his clenched fist as if he wanted to break it. But back then it had been _unsolved._ Then she had gone downstairs. Not much later he had followed. It had taken him less than a minute to solve it. Sure thing, a few people could solve the puzzle even faster, but... Of one who had seemingly never tried it before – judging from his words earlier – it was downright weird to solve the cube puzzle that fast. On the other side of the dark wooden table, sitting on the sofa searching the news for who-knew-what, was a creepy _mastermind_. Just the word made her think of puzzles and numbers and glasses and professors and Einstein. And smart, gorgeous elves.

"...Strictly speaking, I had thought it would offer more of a challenge." He was definitely talking about the Rubik's cube.

If at all possible, his words felt like they were stomping her in the face. But she didn't let it show.

"Uh-huh? ...This happens to be the second easiest cube. There exists 2x2 Rubik's Cubes, 4x4 cubes, 5x5 cubes, all the way to 7x7," she offered. True enough. She had wanted one for her birthday, but since her parents knew she had no chance to solve such a thing (which would eventually depress her), they had skilfully skipped that wish and bought something else. That aside, she _did_ own a 2x2 keyring Cube, which she had managed to solve easily enough. But admitting that would humiliate her.

He said nothing and kept watching the news, now with feigned interest.

Apart from a speech by the President of the United States of America, some activity of some sort in Russia, and the fact that the stock market was acting like a rabid raccoon in a roller coaster on crack, there was nothing special going on in the outside world.

* * *

**R.R.**

Who'd have thought I'd give you a story _now?_


	3. Negotiations

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. I'm just obsessed with it. For a reason. Guess what (who) the reason is. Oh, and I don't own the _Puma_ brand either, or the film _Hot Rod_.

And while Sephiroth pretty much _stops_ moving, Shinra _begin_ moving...

* * *

Negotiations

* * *

Sephiroth retreated to the guest room without a sound while Paige was making dinner.

After considering homemade _pizza_ (which she didn't make, out of fear that the elf-mastermind-general-strong-person would refuse to eat such unhealthy food), homemade _lasagna_ (which she didn't make because it was too difficult, would take too much time, and was too big and formal and flashy), and cheap _salad_ (which she doubted would fill the stomach of the elf-man), she finally made up her mind and made some sort of pasta-and-salad mix that was hopefully passable. And it was easy enough to make. The real problem was how _much_ she should cook. How much would this... Sephiroth eat?

Making a little more than she thought they would eat, she set the table in the living room. Before serving herself, though, she stole into the office on the same floor and did some internet surfing while waiting for Sephiroth. On the net she quickly found what she looked for: A set of Rubik's Cubes. Eyeing the products with feigned disinterest and fake boredom, she tried deciding whether or not to buy them. They weren't exactly cheap. Perhaps she should only buy the 7x7 cube. Then again, she had worked all summer and had some spending money... And it would be very amusing if Sephiroth _didn't_ manage to solve the most difficult ones. Paige mentally leered – but didn't let it show on her face. And even if Sephiroth _did_ manage to solve all the cubes, the two of them could let themselves be entertained by the faces of the rest of her family when they saw him solve it. If her family would ever meet him, that is.

...But then again, Sephiroth could be gone from here long before the Cube puzzles even arrived.

Still, since she actually wanted some for herself... perhaps she should buy them anyway. For decoration.

Thus, after experiencing the slight pain of shopping-and-thus-loosing-money, she loitered back into the living room and found Sephiroth sitting on the sofa. He was watching news again, his hair damp from the shower she guessed he'd taken. Around his shoulder was a new bandage, and that was probably the case for his waist as well. He wore his leather cloak and his own pants still.

"Say, isn't it dangerous to take a shower with wounds that serious?"

...She sounded like she was reprimanding him. She didn't mean to.

"Showering is strictly not the most dangerous activity I've been engaged in."  
"Sorry." It wasn't really a heartfelt apology – Paige was busy telling herself that this man was _strong_, no matter how she looked at him, so there was no need at all for her to worry. All she had to do was to make food.

And soon, she'd also have to buy new bandages. Would he let her leave?

They ate in silence, Sephiroth watching the news with disinterest, Paige pondering how to make the food taste better next time. At some point she noticed that the Rubik's Cube was still on the table – still solved. Therefore, after eating, she took it and started twisting and turning it until all the colors were mixed up again. Making sure that the mastermind-elf-general-who-was-Sephiroth still watched the international news, she tried solving the Cube in her hands. It took her some minutes just to figure out one of the sides, and once she did, it took about twice as long to finish the first row of squares on the next sides. But that was as far as she got. She had no idea how to finish the rest without messing up the other colors. Perhaps she could do a little internet search to get some clues? Would that be cheating?

Upon hearing a small sigh, she looked up to find Sephiroth smirking. He wasn't looking at her, but he was smirking contently while watching the news (which she doubted was funny enough to smile about). It felt like he was silently mocking her.

And as if he wanted to underline his point, he shook his head and gave a chuckle, at which Paige stared back peevishly – trying her best to keep her face somewhat calm and under control. This person was _really_ straight-forward. And rude. Was he doing it on purpose, to try to break the trivial little mask she put on in front of him?

Should she pay him back?

"I'll take care of the plates and the cutlery when I get back – I need to go buy more food and bandages," she said in the most hearty and cheerful and loving voice she could muster, trying her very best to imagine that Sephiroth was not an arrogant general-elf-man-patient, but a little girl with enormous and watery puppy eyes.

This took him aback; he turned fully and looked at her with something in the middle between amusement, strong contempt and very mild astonishment.

"...Leave your phone here," he said slowly. She was pretty sure that also meant '_don't mention me to anybody, because if you do, a certain parrot will be lacking its wings and its head when you return, because I will be able to tell if you're lying about not having talked to anybody about me_', but she couldn't be sure. But she would still obey.

Then she left for the nearest grocery store. To get there she used her dad's ancient, rusty bike.

* * *

After the woman – Paige – left, there existed a very heavy air of vexation in the living room. What annoyed him was not only that she had used that sickly sweet voice earlier, but her face – no matter how she tried (she really _had_ put an effort into it), she hadn't managed to keep her face even _nearly_ as "joyful" as her _words._ In his opinion, it would have been far better if she had simply tried staring him down or something along those lines, because the face she had given him was one that he had experienced as through-and-through _mocking, _and not in any way 'sweet'_._ In comparison, his simple chuckle earlier was practically nothing.

If only he'd had a Restore materia, things would undoubtedly have been different. Many of his materias, along with his own cellphone, had broken when he used the Warp materia to teleport (so to speak) from the Shinra Headquarters in Russia and all the way here, to Canada. He still had a few left, though. As for himself, he still hadn't recovered too much energy. But it would only be a matter of time before Shinra made a move. In other words, it was a race between himself and Shinra – and also the few who opposed (and knew about the existence of) Shinra. Of course, within Shinra, there was one particular person he loathed more than the others by far.

Sephiroth could still recall the shrill, strict words Hojo had spoken the moment before Sephiroth let the Warp magic overtake him and teleport him away:

"_What is this? You aren't strong enough to handle the 'truth' you so vigorously claim that those documents speak of?" _Hojo had looked so angry – wretched with disappointment and contempt because of Sephiroth's violent reaction to what he had read in the off-limits labs.

"_...Let me tell you this – Jenova was never you mother! The one who gave birth to you was a human!"_ the professor snarled. Sephiroth assumed Hojo said this to coax him (in his own ineffective way) into putting the old, risky-to-use materia back where it belonged. Needless to say his words only made Sephiroth more willing to _use_ it. Yet, he was able to feel that Hojo was not lying – in fact, the old professor had practically forced the words to leave his mouth – as if they were his last chance of keeping Sephiroth from doing anything reckless.

"_That Crescent... Lucrecia Crescent..." _he had hissed, and Sephiroth had inclined his head in a mock bow and smirked, bleeding from his many injuries and holding Masamune tightly in his left hand.

Then he had shut his eyes and let the magic of the _Warp _materia in his right hand overwhelm him and carry him to an entirely different part of the world.

"Driftin' away like a feather in air..." spoke the parrot. Sephiroth had ignored it after its useless ramblings the day before. But now it was starting again. Nervous under his strong gaze, the bird tripped a little and rustled its feathers.

"Le-Le-Let the mike fly," the bird stuttered, or rapped, whichever was right. Sephiroth rose to his legs with a weary sigh, holding his ribs over his bandages. What if that Paige went and borrowed a phone from someone, or tried to get someone to help her? To stop her, he would have to be there, right?

Wasting no more time, he left the house and hurried after Paige, still with a hand on one of his wounds.

* * *

Paige returned a lot later than she had planned to – it was about eight in the evening. It was still somewhat light outside, though.

The grocery store had everything she needed, except for bandages. Therefore she diligently pedalled around from house to house with shopping bags on the steering wheel of her bike. None of the neighbours had any bandages, and _all_ of them suggested that she should go ask this or that person, because surely one of them would have some. Needless to say, they all asked what she needed it for, and she said she needed it for a handmade project of hers, to which they smiled and said they were happy no one were hurt (though she could have sworn some of them were disappointed that that she had no gossip for them to spread). She raced all over town in the scorching sun, her arms visibly reddening on the way.

In the end she had went to the doctor (who was a grumpy, impatient man, and _drunkenly_ so), and then he too asked what she needed the bandages for.

"A handmade project."  
"What project?" the doctor demanded in a quiet, hoarse voice. She guessed he had a hangover.

"A surprise for my father."

Really and truly. Bandages, applied by _hand_, _by_ and _on_ the elf-man that she was going to surprise her dad with, whether her dad liked it or not.

"What is it?"

"Can't tell you."

"...Damn kids nowadays. Listen... If it hasn't got a thing to do with injuries or stuff like that, I ain't givin' you any," said the man. Paige's father had told her to stay clear of the man, who was apparently an old pilot veteran – or something like that.

"I'll pay." The dark-blonde-haired man chewed on his cigar and frowned.

"You... That's not the point. Money isn't the point. The point's that if you ain't going to use it for wounds or other-"

"Okay! I have a badly injured elf general at home who is probably so hooked on good hygiene that he will tear off his old bandages any minute and bleed to death rather than keep his old bandages on." Spoken with perfect composure in a loud voice that was sure to make the doctor's head hurt, Paige's words seemingly got across pretty fast.

"I get it, all right, I get it..."

And after all that, she returned to her tiny cabin-like house, sunburned, drenched in sweat and exhausted. She dropped the few heavy shopping bags in the kitchen without even looking in Sephiroth's direction (afraid he would comment her current appearance). Then she took a shower and put on some sun lotion. Sporting white jeans and a gray, very loose-fitting shirt with short arms, she returned to the kitchen and put all the wares into their respective shelves and cupboards. After finishing, she cleaned up the living room table without even glancing at Sephiroth, who was most likely sitting in the sofa still. The dishes took a while to clean.

"Shake it and move it over there," squeaked John Smoth, the parrot, and she glanced at the bird as he stretched to his full height, which wasn't really that much. He turned his head and cocked it towards the end of the living room, which Sephiroth currently had for himself. Absently she turned and looked as well.

The silver-haired man held his ribs tightly with a hand, where the stab wound was, and watched the currently black TV screen with feigned interest like before, only his head was inclined backwards a little. His eyes were a little unfocused. Even though his breath was even and he seemed calm, he was pale – very pale – with beads of perspiration on his skin. He was sitting at an angle, as if to lessen the pressure on his wound, while at the same time still clutching it. And when she had a closer look, he wasn't watching the black television screen after all, but rather stared at the off-white wall above it.

"...Hey, do you... need to lie down?" she asked quietly, wary.

His jade eyes turned and he watched her through the slits that were his pupils. And even now, when his face was practically devoid of expression, his eyes were burning with malice and annoyance. If only for a very short moment, he held her eyes with a terrible rage, then they shut. The hand at his ribs clenched into a fist.

"You... You think you have an infection?" she asked, observing him through narrowed eyes while feeling her heart pound. He was scaring her to death – she was glad she wasn't standing too close.

The stare he had given her moments before looked positively evil.

His lips turned down in a snarl and he said nothing. She had to do something. Call the doctor. Anyone who knew about infections... But Sephiroth had told her not to tell _anyone_ about him being there. Not even her parents, as they might call others about it. And still, the first thing she did when she realized he might have a wound infection, was to reach for her cellphone on the kitchen counter. It was just a reflex.

But then the tables turned.

Now _he_ wasn't the one who should dial the emergency number. Now _Paige_ was the one who didn't know quite what to do.

The very second she reached for the phone, Sephiroth leapt from the sofa and made his way over to her. By the time she grabbed the offensive-and-dangerous-in-an-indirect-way phone, he had a hand around her neck and was staring her down. His other hand held the edge of the kitchen counter in a death grip to support himself. His breath was growing faster.

_Personal space invasion. _She was sure her face displayed how shocked and frightened she looked, and now she couldn't hide it.

"Nh," she managed and held the phone away from herself, but was still reluctant to let go of it – it _was_ the best and most available way to contact the outside world. She was still terrified.

"I got my _eye_ on ya!" squealed the parrot, flapping its wings vigorously and then rustling its feathers.

Sephiroth said nothing.

The hand around her neck was pushing her down as if he was using her for support, but other than that it wasn't too tight. She could breathe, but only because he let her. Then his eyes fluttered to the phone and back to her in a wordless warning before his grip tightened. Paige tried swallowing, feeling her pulse throb in her throat. Then she let go of the cellphone and used both hands to try to pry his single hand off.

"I'm sorry!" she almost yelled, though it was a quiet yell.

Then he started coughing, his mouth still shut, and each cough made him hunch forward in pain. Now clinging to his side with one hand, he let the other loosen from her neck and moved it to her shoulder, to support himself. She had a not-so-vague feeling he despised having to do that. But now was her chance.

"Let... Let me at least get you to your room." Oh, how she hated the way her personal space was being intruded. It gave her cold, nasty chills. If it was up to her, she would never let it happen again. He most likely hated being helped, too, though.

* * *

...Standing in the black shadows of the surveillance room, with the screens before them as their only source of light, a number of scientists were assessing their current situation somewhat hesitatingly. All of them were feeling like they had to speak, simply _say_ something to keep the atmosphere up. They were afraid that if they didn't, Hojo would scold them for their ignorance and uselessness. At the moment they were all in the monitoring room with the experienced professor, watching the monitoring screens with more or less pretended interest. The screens showed a number of small prison-like cells. Each cell held a seemingly normal person, all of them adults. They didn't look awfully healthy, to say the least, yet they had all been dressed up to prepare them for the journey they would soon be undertaking.

"Excuse me, professor Hojo? May I ask again why these... remnants... are to be taken for... a trip?" asked one of the younger scientists, a tall, thin man with glasses.

"Somebody explain it to him," Hojo said exasperatedly while concentrating on the papers he tried reading – it was not an easy thing to do, reading in such a dark room. If he turned on the lights, however, the others' focus would move elsewhere; to any other place than the screens.

"I can do it – I was briefed about it," said another man, stepping closer to the only screen showing a map.

On the map were several red spots.

"The main idea is to use remnants to locate Sephiroth, because they all feel pulled to him. Their instinct makes them able to track him."  
"But why so many? Why not just one?" the tall one interrupted.  
"Listen, I'll explain. First of all, with only one remnant it will be difficult to pinpoint Sephiroth's exact location. Let me give you an example," the other said, and proceeded by pointing at Mexico on the map.

"If we place one remnant in Mexico, who then goes north, and one remnant in Canada, who then goes south, and one remnant in New York, who heads west, and one in sunny San Francisco, who heads east, what does that mean?"

"...That they are all heading for some place in the middle of the USA. That means Sephiroth is somewhere close to wherever they're all heading," replied the tall man in an important voice.

"Exactly. This method involves _many _remnants, so we will be able pinpoint Sephiroth's location at a much earlier stage. That way we can find Sephiroth before he has healed completely. He was injured when he left here, do you recall?"

"Yes, and that's why Shinra has been working around the clock, right?"

"We will find him, even if he is dead," interjected Hojo in a monotonous, yet shrill voice.

* * *

In some unexplainable way, she had managed to talk him into getting up to the guest room, where she was now trying to keep him from falling asleep. If he had an infection, it was probably going to be troublesome for her to do anything at all. She was sitting on the small stool by the bed with her arms crossed, wearing a dull expression – not because she was annoyed or afraid of what might happen, but because she was at loss of what to do and what would be the most appropriate emotion to show an elf-man who obviously didn't want to be pitied. That said, though, she felt she needed to say something. Just to get it over with.

"Your wounds... They're a lot more serious than you made me think," she said quietly.

And still, Paige felt like she couldn't tell anyone about him at all, because then Sephiroth would be taken to hospital and then recover, only to return someday and have his revenge for exposing him. And from what she had gathered, he was hiding from somebody who could find him no matter where he was, if only _someone_ registered Sephiroth (or his looks or identity) in a random database. At all costs, he wanted to stay hidden – at least until he recovered.

But this Shinra he spoke of, were they really evil?

From what she had experienced so far, _Sephiroth_ was the one who flashed evil glares and gave impatient comments at everything. If _he_ was the bad guy, she would be in trouble (whether it was one day or ten years from now). If she contacted others and told them about him, he would come for her. The elf-who-was-not-an-elf-but-rather-a-big-and-strong-looking-man hadn't uttered a word or a sound of pain ever since she found him, in spite of his stab wound and bullet wound. Even now, when his stab wound was infected, he suppressed the pain (which he had explained it to her very briefly through teeth gritted in annoyance).

Then again, if it was _Shinra_ who had made him this strong and cold and rude (and elf-like, if his hair was really silver and the thin pupils of his eyes were not contacts), there was a good chance everything he had told her so far was true. Shinra was evil – an evil organisation experimenting with humans.

"...Don't fall asleep," she muttered, barely audible. If she said it like that, would he fall asleep just to defy her, or would he stay awake only to show her that he could? In any case, if he fell asleep, he might not wake up again.

* * *

**R.R.**

Is... Sephiroth... in-character?


	4. General, Meet Dad

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. I'm just obsessed with it. For a reason. Guess _who_ the reason is.

* * *

General, Meet Dad

* * *

"C-vitamins. Drink them, eat them... Stay healthy."

It was in the middle of the night, and she was talking monotonously to keep herself awake more than to keep _him _awake. Frankly speaking, she had no idea if his infection was serious enough for her to keep him awake at all, but he didn't complain. She was standing in the middle of the room, donning one of her father's white shirts, and black jeans. Actually, she was offering her clothes more thoughts than she should – it looked like she was going to a funeral or some other overly formal thing. On the small stool by Sephiroth's bed was a tall glass of cold juice and a peeled orange. There was even a cup of pine tea, rumored to have even more C-vitamins than orange juice.

The elf-man-whose-costume-was-not-a-costume hadn't changed a bit in hours. His eyes were open and were scrutinizing the roof above him. Though it was dark outside, the spotlights were on, leaving the room bathed in a very faint light. The silver-haired elf-man was ignoring her completely. She felt like she could do absolutely anything she wished without him paying attention.

"You applied antibiotics earlier, right? And about the bandages... They shouldn't be too tight." She had heard her mother say something like that.

"...And don't pick on it or put too much pressure on it. Clean it often." Her muttered words danced through the shadow-like silence and sounded like they were being filtered through water, even to herself, because the words were so quiet.

"And..." Paige sighed, trying to come up with something else to say. She really _was _trying to keep herself awake, rather than him.

"...Your injuries. They were pretty serious. But what about the infection? Is it really serious too...? What I mean to say is, if it gets more serious, can you at least tell me what to do?" So that she wouldn't have to give a false-sounding explanation if he died and her family found him? Would she have to bury him in the forest, like some criminal? She didn't want the blood of an elf-like man on her hands.

No reply. Only a frown. No wonder. She was boring him.

* * *

The next morning she was sitting on the floor in his room, with her back against the door. What else could she do when she wasn't allowed to call the hospital, or even the town's drunken doctor? She could've asked her mother, too, but there was no way Sephiroth would let her. She had a feeling that even if she stole away and hid in the stuffed storage room to call someone, he would hear her voice and magically summon his sword and appear before her as a dark silhouette, which would be the very last thing she would see before a fountain of blood painted the the mess in there.

"I'll make breakfast. There are some things for you here to clean your wounds with."

Paige's hollow voice made her clench her teeth – if her voice sounded like that, her face could hardly look any better. She was dead tired. For now she hoped he would only pay attention to the clean bandages, antibiotics, the hot and sterile water, and the various medicines she had put in a heap on the much-too-annoyingly-small stool by his bedside. He could choose which medicines to use. If he was a general, he ought to know at least some basic stuff that she didn't.

Leaving him to it, she went downstairs and fried eggs, warmed some old scones (one of her many personal favorites) and toasted a few slices of bread. Finally, she prepared juice, water, tea, coffee and _milk_ (an even larger personal favourite) in different glasses and cups. Sephiroth was free to choose. The things he didn't want to eat or drink, she would have. With John Smoth rapping in the background – this time without the radio – she placed everything on a tray and brought it upstairs. All the while, she focused on the glass of milk, feeling her hunger and hearing her stomach scream dissonant songs and melodies of pain, agony and longing. The smell of the warm scones and toast made it no better.

The not-so-harmonic stomach-made tune stopped when she came into his room again.

Though he was obviously finished cleaning the wounds, Sephiroth sat on the edge of the bed, his upper body bare, pale and still injured. He had obviously been up and about moments before, because the wooden Venetian blinds were open, letting in rays of sunlight that enveloped him in a halo of glowing white. An involuntary thought popped into her head: _I have an elf in my house. Either that, or an actor. A very dangerous-looking elf-actor-man who could easily have been confused with a woman, if it hadn't been for those blasted muscles._ Perhaps this really _was_ one of those hidden-camera things.

"Eat some of this and leave the rest. I'll find you some clean clothes."

_And where in this house, exactly, will I find clothes for a tall elf-man whose muscles are that... pronounced? _

All right, first off, she did have some black workout pants that her uncle had given her some time ago... Being a farmer, her uncle had some muscles. He had bought some pants that he didn't like, and then he had given it to her on her birthday. On her, the baggy pants became even baggier, and she recalled that on one particularly windy day, she had walked about feeling like a human balloon, without exaggerating. Those pants, _Puma_ pants, were sure to fit Sephiroth. Pants aside, what shirt would she bring him? She had major difficulties picturing him in other clothes than that coat of his. Which would be best; a white wife-beater singlet or a short-armed shirt? Or a t-shirt? For _her_ (or for her eyes and her unhealthy elf-adoring imagination's) sake, the two latter would be best, but a shirt wouldn't match those sporty pants too well. Probably.

Curling her lip in distaste, she hunted down the biggest t-shirt she could find, a red one with an arrow target on the chest, then found the black Puma pants and some white socks. Embarrassed, but highly insistent on not showing it, she also picked one of her dad's left-behind boxers (holding it between her index finger and her thumb as if it were one of her brother's sweaty, week-old socks of doom). Then she put it on the floor in front of Sephiroth's door and knocked.

After that, she left to find some food for herself.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent watching comedies on the film channels on TV, during which Paige had to stifle and hold back her laughter and keep a straight face all the time. Why did she have to do that? Because she didn't want to awaken suspicion or lose the little respect she had (hopefully) gained from Sephiroth the Serious. The elf-man was in his room, resting. Overestimating the infection was better than underestimating it, in case it truly showed out to be worse than they presumed at first. After keeping him awake all night (which she was getting second thoughts about – it was embarrassing, and only made her flustered when she thought about it), she had settled in the black sofa in the otherwise light living room. In front of her on the table, she had lots of milky food: cereals, milk, chocolate milk and rosehip tea (with milk). And scones with jam. In the background, John Smoth occasionally complained about the film, only to stop abruptly and repeat some of the better one-liners.

Outside, the sun was bright and scorching enough to put an iceberg on fire and reduce it to a black soot spot in a matter of seconds (or so _she_ felt), so she wasn't planning to go outside any time soon. Not even to that blasted river that had put her in this mess. This was, after all, supposed to be her holiday. She had chosen to stay here in the cabin when the rest of her family left to visit their grandparents, so that she could work and earn some money. And on one of the first days she actually had off, she had found General Elf. Even if she decided to leave, she wouldn't dare to speak about Sephiroth to anybody.

She needed to be honest with herself: who with a decent head on their shoulders would believe her if she started talking (no matter how reasonable she tried to sound) about a silver-haired general with a huge sword? In the town she lived, people would discard everything as a lie, but they'd still go and tell each other about it and discuss it – because they all loved rumors and gossip with a passion. In fact, she had spotted old ladies peeking out of their windows on a few occasions – their heads hidden in between the flower vases in their windows. It wouldn't come as a surprise if one of them decided to buy a camouflage helmet for that particular activity.

"Ah. And _that _would be the reason behind your anemia?"

The statement caught her off guard and she struggled to keep her face as calm as possible – which probably made her look lethargic or tired anyway. Then she turned to the man. Standing by the door, which was situated in the middle between the living room and the kitchen part of the room, he looked down on her with a look of triumph, or something like it. He wore a very faint smirk and satisfied eyes. As for his clothes, he had actually chosen to wear the black _Puma _pants and the red t-shirt. It wasn't like he had a choice, though.

"What?" _What was he talking about?_

"Milk. If you consume too much of it, it lowers your hemoglobine level."

Looking at him while feigning laziness, she replied in an even voice:

"I know that. My body lacks iron, and since I'm a milk-aholic, which keeps iron away, I'm anemic." His smirk grew at that, turning almost sinister, which made her avert her eyes to the comedy she was watching. It wasn't nearly as funny now. The hero was in a forest, training all alone – his moves truly impressive and complicated – then he stumbled over a cliff and rolled down. And the slope wasn't small either: it only stopped after a full minute of rolling, falling, bumping into things, and "auff"-ing.

Why was Sephiroth smirking so smugly?

"But it doesn't bother me. It's not like I'm gonna die. Besides, I have medicines that help." Why did she have to prove herself?

The hero in the movie struggled to his feet and seemingly forgot about his fall, because he suggested something to himself about earning some money so he could save his uncle's life so that the two of them could fight a real, honest fight again.

When Paige turned, Sephiroth wasn't there any longer.

* * *

That night Paige chose to have some sleep, which she really needed after the previous night. She didn't wake up before noon. Shocked when she realized, she jumped out of bed and got some clothes on, then hurried downstairs to make food, half expecting the older man to sit in the sofa and watch the news. The elf-man-who-was-no-elf was not there, though, so after readying some breakfast that was hopefully healthy enough for a general to eat, she hurried upstairs. While balancing the food tray in one hand, she used the other to knock on his door. She waited for some seconds, then knocked again, muttering a warning before she opened the door slowly.

The air in the room was not pungent, but not that fresh either, and Sephiroth was still asleep. At first she worried that something was wrong. Then she realized that he, too, had been awake the night before this night, so of _course _he had been tired enough to fall asleep tonight. She relaxed a little, but silently hoped he would be able to wake up again.

"General," she said, sure his eyes would open. When he did nothing, she placed the tray on the writing desk (which didn't have a chair in front of it, unless one chose to move the small stool by the bedside over to it) and walked closer. Perhaps, like the first time they met, he would wake up when she touched him.

But she wasn't really too eager to do that again. Personal space issues or not.

Moving closer, she saw his eyes stir slightly under their lids. Even like this, his hair looked like usual, and yet there were no signs of chemicals, be it hair wax, hair gel or spray. Her thoughts flickered to his sword, which she had hidden well, but soon she narrowed her eyes. While sleeping, he looked... looked...

Paige felt the corners of her mouth turn down as her brain tried churning out flattering words that would sting her own pride and only boost his.

Yet, there was no denying it: He looked stunning, awesome, handsome, even _hawt_, if she were to judge by the standards set by girls in average. He had muscles, so he was sure to be strong, and the structure of his face was good enough to make her flinch mentally. Also, he was tall, but most importantly of all: he was unreachable. Untouchable. Just as out-of-reach as a fictional character, if not more. Good thing the man was so rude, or she would either have been unable to keep her eyes off him, or she would escape him as if he were the embodiment of death. After all, if a man like Sephiroth suddenly turned kind and polite, he was obviously too good to be true. So if he was evil, he had better stay that way.

Too bad she had always had a thing for antagonists.

Paige looked at Sephiroth for a long time, conflicting thoughts fighting a small battle in her mind. After half a minute she mentally slapped herself. All those thoughts vanished, however, when she noticed the tiny globules of perspiration on his face. He was sweating. Hesitant at first, she slowly moved a hand and held it right above his forehead to see if she could feel heat coming from it. There was no way she could find his true temperature like that, though.

"You. Awaken from thy slumber," she ordered boldly (at least in her own ears), her archaic words loud in the small white and wooden room. Those were the same words she had used the first time she found him. This time he didn't react either, apart from his eyes: though still hidden by his lids, they stirred and moved faster.

Deciding that – _if_ the infection had worsened – it was smarter to wake him up by touching him than it was to leave him asleep, she tardily lowered her hand and placed it on his head.

The burning sensation under her palm was – unfathomably fast – replaced with the sounds and feel of shifting wind and fabric, and her back and her head hit the off-white wall with two simultaneous thuds, then something she soon identified as a strong forearm held her upper body in place. His elbow kept one of her shoulders still, and the hand of the same arm locked her opposite shoulder. His knees pushed against hers and his left hand was groping the air behind him as if in search for something. Somehow, she doubted she would have been in one piece if his sword were nearby. Yet, it was his _face_ that made her cower as much as she did. A threatening shadow was cast on him by the sunlight that penetrated the wooden window blinds, and, without humor, he looked down at her with sinister, positively evil eyes. He was threatening her without words in a way that made her eyes widen more than she thought was possible. Even after seeing it was her, he made no signs of intending to withdraw.

"Hey, stop, you needn't-" she started, but then he only moved his right forearm up until it pushed against her neck.

She had no chance of winning against him if she tried taking him on.

"You..." he muttered, his voice darker and colder and more menacing than she had ever heard him before, and a tremor ran through her body as she waited for him to realize who she was. If the fever he had was making him hallucinate, she most likely appeared like somebody else to him.

"I'm _Paige!_" she almost snarled, though because she was afraid, it sounded more like a whimper.

And then he couldn't support himself any longer and his knees failed him. Insistent to stay on his feet, he took hold of Paige's shoulders and leaned against her, his head over one of her shoulders.

_Personal space invasion._

Realizing that if she pushed him off too fast, worse things could happen, she slowly (or not really slowly, but not _too_ fast, either) moved him away and tried to make him sit down on his bed. He willingly moved and sat down, but Paige ended up on her knees in front of him when he refused to let go of her shoulders. His jade eyes, despite the intensity and rage they conveyed, were focusing on something far away – something she had no chance of seeing.

"Now, let go," she commanded, super flustered. She tried her best to feign calmness despite her shaky voice, though. To her, her heartbeat sounded like that of a terrified rabbit.

"Eat your food." Her voice was only a whisper.

...No matter how ill he was, she wouldn't stay by his bed and watch over him if there was a chance he'd do things like _this_ again.

* * *

After the small 'incident', Paige decided to place one of the kitchen stools right outside Sephiroth's door. On it, she left his dinner (and later his supper), because she didn't want to go back in there again. Instead she resolved to knock on the door and scurry away before he could open it. In his state, the chances of him coming downstairs weren't that big. In the end, she ended up watching a bunch of action comedies to make herself feel better – but also, she admitted, to find out what the heroes did about the antagonists in tricky situations such as hers. Needless to say, she found nothing that could be of help.

Really, she was just some kind of hostage.

She had been demoted to a housemaid. In her _own house._ Snarling soundlessly, she grabbed her straight, bob-cut forelocks and twirled them around her fingers in frustration. The light brown, gray-ish (frankly, _sickly-looking_ was a far more accurate description of her hair color) locks resisted the pull. For the first time in a while, she really wanted to leave the house.

* * *

And so went the next couple of days. Sephiroth pretty much stayed in the guest room, save for when he relieved himself or took a shower. Paige left food and medical supplies (supplies were running low fast) at his door on the kitchen stool. The only times they spoke were when she informed him that she was leaving for the grocery store. He only let her leave after making sure she carried no such thing as a cellphone. In addition he made sure to hint that not everything would be fine with the house – or John Smoth, for that matter – if Paige spoke with others about him. But as things were, he had to trust her, because they needed food and she needed to get some new bandages and medicines for him. Since her neighbours knew she was home alone, and since she bought more food than what was strictly necessary, she said it was because she was saving some food for when her family came to visit. Before that, though...

The arrival of Paige's father was running close.

There was no avoiding it; she _had_ to talk with Sephiroth about it and convince him not to to anything reckless.

So she knocked on the guest room door to get it over with.

"Excuse me... I'm coming in..." she warned, then opened the door warily, ready to shut it in a hurry if he happened to stand right inside, ready to loom above her with his sinister aura to scare her all the way to Mexico. She felt a need to hide how wary she was of him, so she feigned a languid, placid look of tiredness before she entered, succeeding only because she filled her mind with depressing thoughts. And her guard was up, even though that wouldn't help a whole lot.

"I need to talk with you about something," she said before she actually looked at him. When she did, however, she saw him leaning against the wall behind his bed. One arm was resting on his knee. Sephiroth looked at her as if contemplating something. From where she stood in the open door she couldn't really see if he still had a fever or not. His face had hardly changed from the first time she had seen him. As he made no signs of intending to move, she continued:

"I figured you'd want to know that my father's visiting tomorrow. Not the others, only my dad."

The space between his brows narrowed, and she redoubled her feigned look of boredom. Even if it meant looking sickly.

"...I see." His reply was silent and almost – but only almost – tired. Staying in this room, unable to move about too much, must have made him weary in the end. Fighting his infection with huge wounds like his could fatigue anyone.

"I can come up with a story to convince him he can't tell anybody about you. He's not the kind of person to throw people out. Or if you want to, you can hide when he's here," she offered lethargically. He frowned at the last thing she said.

"There is no need. Describe his personality, and I shall take care of him."

_Take care of him. _How comforting to have a malicious, silver-haired, super-tall, elf-like, enormous-sword-wielding _general_ say that he'd _take care of_ her father.

"He's a noble, kind and gentle man, even if he tends to go hysteric when really tiny, bad things happen," she said, deadpan. He blinked.  
"Wait. He... He's also tall and skinny, and he has really round eyes and wears glasses. He likes structure and order and makes sure we do our homework."

"His occupation?" What was this? An interrogation? Was elf-man-Sephiroth actually a psychiatrist?

"Priest. And ranger." At her reply, he raised an eyebrow in amusement and smirked. Despite her feigned boredom in the entire situation, her heart was – again – pouncing about like a terrified bunny.

"You may not kill my dad." While speaking, she did not watch him. When he said and did nothing, she chose – for her own well-being – to believe he accepted her wish. Stepping out of the room, she gestured at the kitchen stool right outside the guest room.

"I made you dinner. And... Well. There's something there for you to keep your mind occupied. Use it if you want to. If you don't, then leave it on the stool and I'll take it away." She had to force herself to speak those words.

On the kitchen stool was a dinner tray, and on the tray, next to the dinner (she had gone through the effort of making _tacos_, since it was Saturday) was a small Rubik's Cube. The puzzle cube was larger than the last one she had let him try. Whereas the old one had 3x3 squares on each side, this one had 4x4 squares on each side. And if he managed that one easily as well, she had a few with even more squares. They had all arrived in the mail a little earlier. Somehow, even though she was pretty sure he would solve the 4x4 puzzle easily, a mischievous and gleeful smirk broke through her languid mask when she thought of the massively intriguing 7x7 square puzzle cube she had in store for him later. Hopefully that thing would churn his braincells somewhat and lessen his supernatural and superhuman intelligence and appearance and pride and whatnot.

For now, though, in case Sephiroth couldn't come up with a story that her father would believe, she needed to make something up on her own. Something credible.

* * *

**R.R.**

Thank you SO MUCH for **reviewing**, adding to your list of **Alerts** and your list of **Favorites**! It means so incredibly much, and makes me so unbelievably happy! (-hearts-)


	5. The Visitor

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

In the past I've updated very often... Sorry, but with this story, I might be slower... (Quality over quantity, yes?)

* * *

The Visitor

* * *

Later that day, or more specifically, later that night, Paige sat cuddled in a fleece blanket on the sofa with her feet pulled up. The wind was howling aggressively outside, pushing the rose bushes against the windows so that disturbing, scratching noises carried all the way inside. The dark, unpredictable howls and scratching sounds weren't about to stop any time soon. There was no rain, and it was most likely warm and dangerously dry outside, but still none of the TV channels worked. Paige was watching a black screen while trying to figure out which DVD to choose. Muttering occasional words of comfort to John Smoth – he was squawking things like "Watch out, lightnin's comin' for ya," and "Le-le-let the mike fly," she paid no heed to anything else than what was in her immediate vicinity. She had no doubt that if she tried going outside, chances were a branch (or maybe even two) would fly by and take her with them. The wind was pressing against the house from all sides, it seemed.

After Smoth had squawked something in a particularly low, nervous voice ("I'm driftin away like a feather in aaair..." and "My favorite rec-reco-record has go-gotta go"), Paige looked up from the confines of her soft, warm blanket.

Standing in the middle of the room was _Sephiroth._

_Doom_, she thought absently, wondering what the elf-man-who-looked-unnaturally-intimidating-in-the-current-light was doing downstairs at this hour.

"Why are you up?" he demanded, staring down the blanket that covered her. Thank goodness for blankets and their make-believe safety.

"I'm not doing anything suspicious. I wanted to stay up and watch a good movie."

He glanced at the TV.

"None of the channels work now, though. It's because of the wind outside." That meant he wouldn't be able to watch the news. Would that bother him?

"...So you stay up because you are frightened of the wind?" he taunted, sitting down in the three-seat sofa – Paige sat in the two-seat one. From where he sat, Sephiroth observed her with something that suggested he thought he had found a weakness of hers.

"_Wrong._ I've seen worse than this. Try to picture rain with the strength of a hundred water jets spurting water, then add some stormy airplane engine-like gust, some hail the size of marble balls, lightning every millisecond and thunder so strong it feels more like continuous earthquakes. _Then_ we're talking increase of adrenaline." She _was_ overdoing it. Although she tried not to be sarcastic about it, she was a billion percent sure that he could sense she was exaggerating. And that she was currently bored, she mentally added.

"...That aside, if you're hungry, there's food in the cupboards and the fridge, and if you don't want any of _that,_ feel free to grab-" He placed the 4x4 Rubik's puzzle cube on the table for her to see.

_Solved._

"To grab... candy..." Her voice was so low she was sure he couldn't hear her.

Before he said anything, she reached for a small glass bowl on the dark wooden table. The bowl held a fair amount of small so-called Love Hearts. It was basically a bunch of little, flat hearts with various friendly or romantic things written on them. She didn't like the taste, but wasn't afraid to admit that she really enjoyed reading the small quotes. Seeing as Sephiroth, the-elf-who-was-not-an-elf, had solved yet another Rubik's Cube, she found it perfectly all right to grab a whole handful of the candy and retreat into her blanket. Suddenly feeling unhealthy – since she was in the presence of one who was no doubt a health-, sport- and training-maniac – she threw a few his way.

He caught all the Love Hearts with one hand, some in his palm, a few between his fingers, then immediately started inspecting them like a baboon would inspect insects before eating them. Paige held back a snort at her thoughts, but soon shut up when he started reading:

"..._'My pal'_? And _'Bless you'_?" he asked, reading the quotes on each of the pieces of candy. Paige stiffened, hoping there wouldn't be any... _improper_... quotes.

"Uh, yeah. I didn't read any of them before I gave them to you," she defended herself, then ate her own Love Hearts in stifling silence.

"..._'Hunk'_?" he said, and the word was so short she didn't know if he was flabbergasted, furious or stock still in disbelief.

She, however, was torn between howling with laughter and dying of embarrassment. Of _all _things, he had to get one of _those _Love Hearts. Even a _'love you'_ candy would have been better.

"It's not like... It's really not like you're the only one getting offensive things like that thrown your way," she said. She was just making things worse by talking. She had to say something reasonable, at least. So she continued.

"Okay, listen to mine, then: _'hug me'_, _'real love'_, _'ever yours'_, _'hold me'_, _'yes dear'_."

...Soon, _quietness_ reigned in the room. If felt remarkably much like sitting in an enormous underground marble hall that was actually a mausoleum readied especially for her death, except she was alive and desperately trying to save her life before the elf-or-vampire-man would say something that embarrassed her so much she would kill herself. This was hardly what her face expressed, though: She was dead calm on the outside, wearing her face like any other person might wear a mask. That said, though, her face probably looked completely dead.

When she mustered the willpower to look up, he was gone.

Again.

It was kind of relieving, but at the same time annoying. She was obviously not somebody he wanted to waste his time on. And he even left the candy behind. She should have seen that one coming, though.

In any case, she should probably get to bed instead of watching a film. Her dad was coming home tomorrow, after all.

* * *

"Here he comes..." she muttered breathlessly, feeling worse by the second. She was practically plastered to one of the larger windows in the living room, and John Smoth was moving back and forth, restless.

Why couldn't Sephiroth just swallow his pride and go _hide in his room?_

"Don't say anything reckless." The cold, calm voice from Sephiroth, who was sitting on the sofa, was soothing and disturbing at the same time. He had everything under control, which was pretty good, but this was _her _house (or her family's cabin, actually) and the person on his way up the porch was _her _dad.

And knowing her dad, he would enter immediate demon-extermination-prayer-mode-including-holy-water the moment he saw Sephiroth's silver hair. Sephiroth's extraordinary eyes made it no better.

Then the entrance door opened and the sound of heavy bags falling to the floor was heard.

Wait. _Bags_? For how long was he planning to stay?

"Hello...? Hello, Paige?" sounded the voice, which was both dark and squeaky at the same time.

"Dad," she said, _almost _coldly, sounding like she was scolding him for visiting. That wasn't intentional – she was actually happy that he dropped by every now and then. Calmly walking into to the hallway to keep him from coming into the living room, she kept her 'mask' on her face. "Ah, Paige! How good it's to _see_ you!" Then she was given a big bear hug which she very reluctantly returned.

"Pops, we have a visitor," she started, and then her dad immediately turned long-necked and tried peeking over her shoulder into the living room, but Paige pushed him back.

"Hear me out," she whispered. "It's very important that you remain calm, because even if he looks a bit unusual, he's perfectly normal and kind and polite. And there's a reason he's here."

Her dad gave her a deep, worried frown, already suspicious.

"Why have you-"  
"He's my teacher, in Physical Education," she added, loud enough for Sephiroth to hear. The two of them had already exchanged their ideas somewhat awkwardly. Luckily, her father visibly relaxed. From his point of view, teachers were obviously people who deserved respect. They were trustworthy, and in his mind, they were honest and good people who worked for the best of the youth of the country. Stroking his small mustache in place, her father rolled his bony shoulders and cleared his voice, then adapted a polite smile.

Then he walked into the living room, and the moment he saw Sephiroth (who was now standing), his smile turned brittle and he turned to Paige for help.

"Pops, meet Sephiroth. Sephiroth... this is Aaron." ...For some reason, Sephiroth's name tasted strange on her tongue. It sounded foreign to her – and probably to her dad as well. At least her face and voice remained somewhat... _lethargic. _To her own taste. It was far better than the look and sound of panic. In other words, she preferred keeping her guard up. Like usual.

Sephiroth moved closer and reached out a hand, managing only half a smile, but his eyes remained strong. Paige mentally begged her father not to notice his slit-like orbs.

Then she recalled her and Sephiroth's discussion from earlier that day:

_She thought he was planning to say that he was some important person. His plan was much simpler than that, though. He was going to say he was a _teacher_. When she heard, she made an unbelieving frown._

"_Who did you think I would claim to be?" he inquired._

"_You want my honest opinion?" she said in a flat voice. He waited._

"_...Well, I've been thinking a lot. I hardly even slept tonight. And I really thought you were going to say something like **this**: 'I am Sephiroth, General and soldier of the Military Forces of the organization Shinra, currently deployed here to supervise an operation as a part of my obligations to certain organizations as well as my home country, to serve and support Shinra's and my country's international allies. What brought me here is a matter of national and international security and cannot be discussed lest I consult my superiors in person beforehand. As to the reason behind me being here, I got involved in an inconvenient situation, during which I was injured in a crossfire between... ah, what would be the most appropriate term with which to describe them? ...Gangsters, I believe will do. They were in no way a part of my mission, yet they seemed insistent on reprimanding me for entering their territory during a trivial investigation." _

_And this explanation – spoken by Paige with a dull voice and even duller face – was rewarded with a highly amused smirk and glowing eyes that were so sparkly and perfect in her mind that she mentally cringed and turned away. Her hours spent to come up with that explanation was wasted (since he was going to pretend to be a teacher), and the only reward she was given, was lack of sleep. And a lone smirk. _

"_And how did you plan to explain how I ended up here?" he asked, curious if she had anything else to add to the story._

"_...I wouldn't know."_

And now, after shaking her dad's hand – who seemed dumbstruck – Sephiroth stepped back a little. Then her father glanced at Paige, his mouth opening and closing a little.  
"Ah, I-I see, but I'm... What... Why are you here, then?" he asked, perturbed. As if suddenly realizing that Sephiroth was much taller than him, Aaron took a deep breath to make his chest look bigger.

"Being a Physical Education teacher, I wished to get acquainted with the area – especially the forest. Unfortunately, I stumbled across a cliff that I should have stayed clear of. The ground gave away under my feet and I fell."

"Yeah. A hundred feet," Paige added, her voice so dull that she grabbed the attention of them both. The thick sound of irony wasn't something she had intended to use, though.

"Up by the big river. He would've been taken away by the river if it hadn't been for the sun. There was hardly any water left," she added, _trying _to sound a little more enthusiastic. It made her uncomfortable to have to do so, because that meant lowering her imaginary guard. It felt like she was exposing herself.

Sephiroth's face remained calm and frozen.

"...You fell?! But- Why didn't you call the hospital?" her dad asked, turning to Paige.

For a moment silence reigned and Paige almost thought Sephiroth expected her to come up with something, so she frowned. But then the silver-haired-elf-who-was-pretending-to-be-a-kind-and-noble-human-having-fallen-victim-to-an-unstable-cliff spoke again:

"That would be because I requested that she did not, which Paige kindly accepted. My reason is this: I simply cannot afford medical treatment, nor do I wish to rely on anybody else to pay hospital fees in my place. And as you can see, I am already healing. Of course, after I start working as a P.E. teacher, I will be able to afford paying Paige for letting me stay here. If needed, I will offer my assistance with other tasks. Surely, if your daughter had chosen to leave me behind when she came upon me in the forest, I would have been far worse off."

There was a thick, icy, shiny, _queen-l_ike and dangerous beauty shrouding Sephiroth, and for a moment he looked like a looming piece of solid sincerity and politeness.

Personally, Paige felt more like a mute, pale, ninety percent transparent wallflower or something else that was gray and unnoticeable.

And after the display of magnificent and supernatural _elf_ishness, her dad had no idea what else to do than kindly accept Sephiroth's lengthy explanation. He even offered (on Paige's behalf) to let him stay for as long as he pleased. From what she had gathered earlier, Sephiroth was reluctant to let his name be registered in _any_ kind of database (and thus he couldn't even use his own credit card). Therefore, by claiming (or _lying _about) that he had lost his credit card in the river or somewhere close to it, her dad even offered to go buy some clothes for him. The moment her father turned his back to Sephiroth, however, that cold, menacing, king-elf-like look returned to his face. Even now, when he didn't carry his sword (and in addition wore a pair of black _Puma _pants and a red t-shirt), he looked positively _dangerous_. Behind his mask, however, she could see him twitch occasionally, as if in pain. Once, he even wiped his forehead briefly, wearing an angry scowl.

* * *

A little later, Paige was relieved to find that the bags her dad had brought inside earlier were actually _shopping_ bags, and not 'sleepover bags'. They were full of food, to boot. But still, apparently all the food was super-mega-stuffed with heavy calories and tons of sugar. _Delicious _food. Paige figured her mom had told her dad to bring it all over.

"Mom, just what're you trying to do to me? I, who am planning to become a-..." Before she said too much, she shut herself up and looked around briefly. Nobody was watching. Sephiroth and Aaron, her dad, had gone outside for a bit. Staring down the shopping bags for some seconds before picking them up, she carried them to the kitchen. John Smoth the parrot spoke up:

"Yah, let's take it all back to the register, start it all over from the canister! Let's break it all down," he squeaked, nodding like crazy.

"You're not getting any of this. If you eat it, you'll die," Paige deadpanned, looking at the food coldly. At least now she wouldn't have to spend her own money on food for a while.

In any case, what was taking her dad and Sephiroth so long? They were outside somewhere.

* * *

"For now, since my economical situation cannot provide enough money to pay for my stay here until I start working as a P.E. teacher, I will try to make myself useful in other ways," Sephiroth spoke, perhaps a little too monotonously. He was lying, after all. Of course, there was no way he would pay anybody at all, even though he had already stayed at Paige's house for a while.

"No, really, that's fine! Until you've recovered from falling off that cliff, you should take it easy," Aaron said, grinning apologetically. Sephiroth held back an impatient, insulted sneer.

They were outside, standing in the sunny, overgrown garden. Grass was everywhere, bushes were threatening to hide any paths that might have been there in the past, trees loomed above and around the small, cabin-like house and kept it somewhat hidden. Even boulders the size of cars lay scattered about, providing protection for the rodents or snakes that no doubt occupied the many holes beneath them. Though the leafy branches were both heavy and dense, sunrays easily broke through, and in their light, swarms of insects were visible. Also, Sephiroth could hear a stream nearby, but he couldn't see it.

Needless to say, the garden needed some tending.

Then, as Sephiroth stepped back to get a better overview, the back of his head hit a branch. The impact wasn't strong, but it thoroughly vexed him nonetheless. Thus he stepped away a second time, and this time he almost stumbled over the roots of the same, pitifully dehydrated tree. With all this tall grass, he couldn't even see his own feet. Aaron was about to express his concern, which only added to Sephiroth's quickly worsening mood.

So he calmly walked closer to the the dry, dying tree, which was about as thick and tall as an ordinary street light, and gave it a roundhouse kick that broke it in half. Then he proceeded by grabbing some of its branches with one hand and roots with his other. Ignoring the pulsing sensation in his wounds, he jerked the tree up – his face still devoid of expression – and threw it uphill, out of the garden.

Judging by Aaron's expression, that might not have been the wisest thing to do.

"...The tree was light and hollow, and the roots were not deep," Sephiroth explained in an attempt to explain how he had split, pulled up and thrown up the tree so easily.

Aaron's wide eyes and mouth remained startlingly open, and his mustache twitched a little. Sephiroth continued:

"I learned it in the military. Strength and technique training was useful, especially so in mock battles against several people at a time. Surprise attacks using your surroundings also have an effect. I might add that one's strength doesn't lie in one's arms, but in the movement of your entire body. The tree would be no feat for any of my fellow soldiers."

"...Oh. Impressive..." Aaron said, breathless. At least he seemed to believe Sephiroth - to a degree. But somehow, Sephiroth felt better now that the man was no longer underestimating him.

* * *

Paige came outside just in time to walk back inside again with the two others. She had no idea why they had gone outside, nor why her dad's face was white as a sheet, but that didn't matter. At least he was in one piece, physically unharmed.

So, while she was busy making a boring dinner, awkward silence ensued in the living room. The television was on and her dad and Sephiroth were watching news. Personally, Paige felt like she was forcing herself to make horrible food, and found she was more lethargic and expressionless than usual. Dinner dragged on for a while, as they hardly spoke at all. Once evening was starting to make its appearance, her dad seemed _almost _happy to leave. He would have been beaming with joy and relief to get out of there, if it hadn't been for the fact that he was leaving Paige behind with Sephiroth. So it seemed to her, anyway.

She joined him when he walked out to his car.

"Don't worry. He doesn't have any interest in me. In fact, I think he dislikes me with a passion," Paige assured, her voice flat. "But he's polite, so it'll be okay," she added as an afterthought, although she wasn't telling the whole truth. She was standing by the closed door of Aaron's decade-old jeep lookalike. Her dad's mustache bobbed up and down a few times as he thought of what to say, now that Sephiroth was inside the house. Out of hearing range.

"...Just take care of yourself and call if anything happens. We'll come visit."

_**We**'ll come visit? _Oh no. The sliver of 'peace and quiet' she so desperately wanted was now completely out of sight. Sliced to pieces. Burned to a crisp. Evaporated. Once Sephiroth met her weird family, he would run away screaming like a girl or a pig or something.

"...Yeah, sure." If she had sounded pensive and bored before, she now sounded like she was at death's door.

* * *

**R.R.**

Don't worry, I won't overwhelm you with her entire family just yet. First I want some progress with the two of them...


	6. Observations

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

Shorter chapter?!

* * *

Observations

* * *

Sephiroth was thoroughly annoyed.

It certainly improved his mood when Paige's father left – finally – but other things were soon in place to keep his annoyance growing. The problem was Paige. Although she obeyed his every whim and made an effort not to bother him – or let him bother her – the fact still remained that she was abnormally _expressionless._ The most limit-breaking change of her face so far was a slight widening of her eyes.

Even when observing her in the corner of an eye – feeling dark vexation at her constantly bored expression – every time she watched the news with him, she remained the same. No matter how horrible the news were, or how unique and entertaining the adverts attempted to be, she stared blankly at the television screen. It was like watching an abnormally old woman trying to make sense of modern satellite and television technology.

The only explanation was that she was _deep in thought._

* * *

_Dad, soon, I will have to sneak into your house and permanently destroy your telephone and your cellphone, _Paige thought, paying no attention to the sounds, voices and colors on the TV screen.

And _why_ would she have to destroy her father's means of communication? Because he was doing something suspicious. It didn't have anything to do with Sephiroth, she guessed, because this had been going on for a long time already. She had already been suspicious of him for a while. Every time she asked him for _one particular thing, _he excused himself and went to call _somebody. _And after that, the _one particular thing _she wanted suddenly became out of the question.

The _one particular thing _she wanted was to learn martial arts.

Her theory was that every time she mentioned this wish in front of her dad, he called all the martial arts instructors within the radius of thirty miles and _told them not to accept _her as their student if she called them. He was being overprotective. He was being a doting parent.

_That old, paranoid man._

Her eye twitched and she slowly clenched her teeth, but otherwise her face remained as dull as usual.

How had she not seen this before? It was too suspicious that none of the martial arts teachers she called became reluctant when she told them who she was. What had her dad told them about her health that would make them act like that? Had he told them she was weak and frail and that her bones would dissolve if somebody hit her?

In any case, she was getting desperate. So it was about time for her to swallow _all _of her pride and ask a certain person for help.

"May... I..." If at all possible, her voice tasted like poison at what she was about to ask. Her face felt like stone.  
_May I call somebody I know to ask a favor? _It was a simple request. If only she hadn't disliked the person she was planning to call.

But... Sephiroth was a general.  
Didn't generals know martial arts, too?  
Wouldn't he know how to teach others?

"What?" demanded the evil elf, who was no elf, but rather a scowling and illegally beautiful human.

_All right. Time to change my question.  
_It was worth a try.

"Do you know how to teach martial arts?" she asked, sounding almost depressed.

"...Yes."

"Can-"  
"I will never teach you," he interrupted, his words sounding utterly final.

...She had a hunch that even if she were to ask again and again – or beg, cry, even – he'd never change his mind.

"...Fine. Then... may..." she started, returning to the question she had originally planned to ask. Silver-hair stared intently – his turquoise-like eyes piercing hers with suspicion.  
"May I call somebody... To. Ask. For. A... _favor._" Asking this was _painful._

Hopefully, calling that guy would pay off. Or even better, maybe that guy wasn't even home, and somebody else answered.

"Who, and for what?"

_Lovely. _He was asking her to explain. To clarify. To go into _detail._

"...A classmate whose father is a martial arts instructor." Neutral terms. Good.

And Sephiroth didn't seem to mind. Maybe because then he wouldn't have to worry about her asking _him_ to be her martial arts teacher.

And so, fifteen minutes later, Paige was holding her cellphone to her ear while muttering complicated, creative curses directed at herself while desperately hoping her classmate wouldn't pick up. Her face still felt like stone.

_Let his dad pick up the phone. Or his mum. Please._

"Plea-"

"Hello?" sounded the soft voice on the other side.

_Oh, crap. _It was her classmate. Not one of his parents or anyone else in their house. Paige's finger hesitated on the hang-up button. For a second, she considered faking her voice, but knew – of experience – that he would recognize her anyway. Maybe this was not such a good idea. Her blood was boiling.

She had better make this fast.

"Hello," she said in a dull voice, but the greeting did – unmistakably – sound more like _hell-ow_.

"...Paige?" was the breathless response.  
"Uh, yes, sorry to call you so early, but I need to have a word with your father."

"Huh, really? About what? My dad won't be home for a while, maybe tomorrow. Is something wrong? ...Can I help?" he asked, every word filled with hopeful happiness.

Personally, she was scared half to death.

"...No. It has to do with your father's work."  
"I can leave a message!" he offered.

The question now was if he would do anything within his power to _help_ her, or if he would do everything he could to _prevent_ her from learning martial arts because he was afraid she would get hurt.

"Fine... I... I would very much like to present a request which involves me as a student and your father as a teacher." How awkward and stiff that sounded. It was on purpose, she told herself.

He said nothing.

...That made her panic.

"Listen, this means more to me than I can ever hope to explain. I'll pay in advance if that helps, and even if I get sick or if there's school tests or exams the day after training, I'll never skip training."

Still no response. Perhaps her fast, monotonous monologue had frightened him. She continued:

"If mum forcefully drags me to attend one of her aunts' weddings on the other side of the world, I'll be back before training – I won't be late. If dad forbids me from coming at all, I'll go to court against him, because I'm old enough to do so. I promise to behave and show respect in front of your dad. To the very best of my ability."

"...Wow." He didn't sound like he was mocking her. On the contrary; he sounded like he was in awe. It gave her the chills.

"And for future reference, I am not _begging you,_" she added.

"Really?" This time he didn't sound convinced.

"Yes, really. I am begging your _father_. If he still refuses to take me as his student, I want you to warn him that I'll be waiting for him in front of his house every morning. Every time he leaves, I'll touch my forehead to the ground in a bow and beg him, without shame, to take me as his student. Until he gives in." There was something a little more serious than usual in her voice. Just in case her face decided to betray how she felt, she faced away from Sephiroth. He was undoubtedly listening in.

"...Okay. Trust me, Paige! I'll make it happen – without a doubt." She almost gagged at his words. The way he said them made it sound like she was leaving her life in his hands just so he could dye it pink, dust it with heart-shaped glitter and soak it with love-potion perfume. Like he was super-honored to have such a task bestowed upon him by her.

"Thanks, Solomon. Bye."

Before she could hear ecstatic remarks about how she'd spoken his name willingly, and before he could say something disturbingly friendly and nice, she hung up.  
For she was terrified by his honest kindness.

* * *

Sephiroth was actually amused – if only slightly.

Paige left her cellphone on the kitchen counter as if it were covered in nuclear waste, then turned and walked back to the two-seat sofa. Sephiroth, sitting in the three-seat sofa, observed as she sat down. If at all possible, she looked even more sickly and worn-out than he had ever seen her before. She looked more dead than alive.

Whoever _Solomon_ – her classmate – was, Paige obviously wanted distance between them.

"You wish to learn martial arts," he stated. Her icy eyes didn't move to him.  
"Yes," she replied, her voice dull.

"You have anaemia," he added. She frowned very weakly and looked straight at him, this time.  
"Yes."

"Your anaemia makes you weak."  
"...You're implying that I won't be able to cope with the hard training?" Her face was still a stiff mask. Her cold eyes were another matter.

Sephiroth chose not to reply – silence spoke for him.

"I carried you all the way from that dreaded, stony river," she said, claiming to possess at least a shred of strength in having done so.  
"True. But did you not stop several times on the way down?"

...If possible, her face hardened.

"That was because I was tired from_ running a__ll the way up there_." He could see her resolve wavering as she looked away from him. "But... It's been a while since I had a real workout. I think... I think I'll have to do something about that."

And so she slowly rose and left the room.

* * *

He had never thought that what she was currently doing could be so disturbingly entertaining. He couldn't help it - when Paige had left the room, he'd followed her outside to see just what she was planning to do.

In the overgrown garden, she had unearthed an ancient lawn mower.

With it, she was currently massacring all the grass, weed, flowers, bushes, small trees and everything else of the like, as long as she could get the choking, loud lawn mover close enough to it. The monstrous thing made more noise than a trailer, and must be abnormally heavy, for it was made of metal - which by the way was extraordinarily rusty. To add to it all, the garden was not flat and even, but slanting upwards. The ground was covered in scattered, moss-covered stones and old tree roots that went in the wrong direction.

And still, Paige pushed the lawn mower forward with such ferocious intensity that it seemed a wonder she didn't trim the trees, house and outhouse while she was at it.

But her face remained a stony mask.

He couldn't help but wonder how she could keep that expression intact even through such a fierce effort. Surprisingly, despite flying twigs and stray stones and dust, she remained unharmed. Shouldn't she at least appear slightly tired? She was covered in dry mud and green patches from grass, and because of the sun - and her endeavors - she was sweating. Even so, her _face remained _in that mask of stone she so insistently maintained. Why was that? Surely something psychological had to be the explanation. To create distance, perhaps?

_Then again, perhaps her personality is simply like that, _he mused, watching her slaughter the things in her garden that were unwanted.

* * *

**R.R.**

Mfu-fu-fu (since I dunno what else to say).


	7. Overpowering Her Mask

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

Reasons behind the late update: I had a fever. I discovered and watched all the episodes of the anime Gungrave. I watched half the episodes of the anime Wolf's Rain. I read a fantasy novel called Graceling. I started reading a fantasy series called Pellinor (the first book is called The Gift). And I have school. And I desperately want to buy a fantasy novel called The Blade Itself.

* * *

Overpowering Her Mask

* * *

Paige knew his wounds were healing. She was absolutely sure of it, even though elf-man hadn't let her have a look yet. Even though she hadn't really studied his wounds at all – since the beginning, she had only seen the blood and the external parts of his injuries.

Then how could she be so devastatingly certain he was feeling better?

Because just recently, he had started giving her a generous share of deathly stares. Each time he glared at her he looked stronger, healthier. No, not exactly _healthier._ He still had a fever that refused to let go of him. Paige was beginning to think that the fever would last until his wounds healed completely. And with his recent glares, even John Smoth (her parrot) had grown abnormally quiet.

Needless to say, although she felt like a porky pig facing a brawny bear, she kept her face stony and icy and bored and expressionless to the best of her ability.

* * *

Sephiroth was content.

He had come up with a simple plan that would hopefully not take much time – a plan that would serve him well if it worked. And it _would _work. In all simplicity, his intention was to break her mask – to make Paige show him whatever it was she was keeping behind her reined face. For he despised how she resisted showing fear. That was the source and the gist of his annoyance.

Her _mask. _

Now he would find out what it took to break it.

* * *

The following days were very trying and very weird for Paige.

First, when she was going to learn karate at Solomon's father's house, Sephiroth came along. He didn't join her inside, but waited with her at the gate until Solomon's father came outside and invited her in. She had a hunch Sephiroth was there because he wanted to see her _beg _Solomon's father to become her teacher. She didn't have to beg, though, thanks to Solomon. He had convinced his father rather thoroughly, it would appear, so he already looked at her as his student. _Her win._

The same day, after her first (and very tough) karate lesson, Sephiroth asked questions about martial arts (about moves and her teacher and his son and how embarrassingly exhausted she was). It felt like he was trying to make her feel uncomfortable. To tell the truth, he did a good job. _His win. _Most of the questions were too complicated for her to answer: about karate ranks, names of different moves, or whatever Solomon must have said to make his father agree to become her teacher, or what Solomon's father thought about training a person who was not only a _girl, _but also a girl with _anemia _and _no enthusiasm showing on her face whatsoever_.

Once she started going to work again, he appeared there as well. Her summer job was at a home for elderly. Whenever she glanced out a window, he was there, and each time she almost choked on her tongue. After a while she only looked at the floor straight in front of her feet in order to avoid Sephiroth's stares (he was probably there to make sure she didn't tell one of the nurses or the elderly about him, his presence or anything else that could lead Chinba or Shanri or Shinra or whatever his way).

At home it was even worse. One day John Smoth went missing from his T-shaped wooden stand. Only a few feathers were left. Sephiroth claimed that although he didn't know where Paige had hidden his Masamune, a kitchen knife had done the trick with the overly annoying bird. He'd said so while flashing a dark smirk. If it hadn't been for the fact that John Smoth screeched "Whadda beautiful day ta be free!" from behind the sofa, she'd have peed her pants with fear.

To add to that, Sephiroth would occasionally offer displeased comments about the clothes she lent him (usually her father's left-behind or never-used clothes), or he would shock her half the way to Mexico with a _nice_ remark about her food. He would say anything, she felt, as long as his words could throw her off. Time and time again, he surprised her, and time and time again, she had to reinforce her mask. She even had to remind herself why she insisted to keep her face like that. It was a _habit, _yes, but it was also to keep herself from letting down her _guard_. Keeping her face in check was a reminder of who Sephiroth was (or might be) and what he could do.

* * *

Paige held a number of bed sheets in her arms, under her arms and over her shoulders, and even more sheets pooled around her feet. She had unearthed it all from an old closet because they smelled rather old. Washing them couldn't hurt. While holding it all in her arms, she was trying to remove the bed sheets from her own bed too – in a poor attempt to be as effective as possible. She must look ridiculous.

Of course, looking as ridiculous as she did was like an open invitation to Sephiroth, who had recently tried to frighten her to death on a number of occasions.

He was standing in the doorway to her room now, all quiet. She could hardly see him through all the bed sheets. She couldn't even see her own feet. Walking around might be a bad idea.

"Um," she managed, her voice muffled. Would asking for help be a bad idea? He'd bothered her a lot lately, so it was only right that he should do something small in return, right?

"Could you hold some of this?" she asked, her voice quiet and strained as she turned to him slowly. The bedclothes at her feet wrapped around her feet, but she stayed on her legs easily. She reached out to hand some of the linen to Sephiroth, who slowly extended his arms and grabbed some of it.

"Watch it," she warned as a few bed sheets fell to their feet. Then she looked up into his face. Tiny beads of perspiration rested on his forehead.

_...Fever? He still has a fever?_ Paige stared, forcing exaggerated calmness upon her face.

This caused Sephiroth to frown, and in simple spite, he leaned forward to return the linen she had handed him. She automatically stepped back to avoid him, but got caught up in the sheets at her feet. For a short moment, Sephiroth looked like he was about to grab her and stop her from falling. Then, as she fell and he followed, the imminent truth of what was about to happen hit her, and she panicked. She let go of all the bedclothes, but it was already too late. Very soon she felt her head and back hit the linen-covered floor, and in no time after that, Sephiroth landed atop her. The bed sheets she had thrown into the air a second ago were either in between them or on top of Sephiroth.

He was on top of her.

She was breathless.

_Personal space invasion alert._

She couldn't breathe.

He wasn't moving away.

Too close, he was _too close –_ pinning her to the covered floor with his weight – and there was too little distance between their faces. Her icy eyes were wide open and her eyebrows were curling and her mouth wasn't shut – she was trembling and her hands were grasping the floor and the sheets beside her. Her heart was screaming and grappling inside her, fighting and pushing relentlessly and uselessly.

Then he pulled back only enough to see her face.

* * *

When he saw her expression, his face broke into a fierce smirk that must look more evil than any expression he'd showed her so far. His satisfaction coursed through him at her vivid expression.

Her mask was completely broken, and she was trembling. Now, all that her face displayed was raw emotions – her expression was a mirror into her mind, her thoughts, and revealed everything she had stubbornly locked away from him until this moment. What made her mask break was no doubt physical contact. After this, however, she would most definitely reinforce her mask, her protective wall.

As seconds turned into a full minute, he found himself amused that even now she couldn't muster the strength to force her mask back on her face.

To think she could display such a strong, vivid expression.

...Such large, ice blue, _terrorized_ eyes.

* * *

Suddenly Sephiroth's smirk disappeared and a shadow crossed his eyes. Paige didn't tremble any longer – she was feeling too faint to do a thing.

He pulled away and stopped when he sat on his knees. Bed sheets fell from his back to the floor. Realizing that she hadn't breathed since she hit the floor, she inhaled sharply and scrambled to her knees and away from the elfish man before her. Then she started trembling again. Not sure her face could settle into a calm expression, she turned away from the silver-haired man and hoped her pale hair would hide her face a little.

Now, frustration and embarrassment took the place of fear. But what could she say to him?

"...That was not what I intended." His voice was quiet. Enough so that she glanced at him through her hair, holding back a frown. Perhaps he was talking to himself, or maybe it was the fever talking.

After all, what she heard was _almost _an apology.

She said nothing in return. After a while of sitting in silence, though, she gathered herself and sent him the coldest, stoniest, most disgusted and bored and uninterested face she could muster. Truth be told, she expected him to scowl back, or perhaps even threaten her verbally, but he just scoffed at her. _Mocked _her. Then he got up, stepped out of the tangled bedclothes and left her room.

Relaxing only a little, she let go of the breath she had no idea she'd been holding, then realized her heart was still hammering like a hummingbird on crack. In comparison, everything else in her body felt like oozing pudding or jelly or microwaved marshmallows.

Why did he do that?

He didn't fall on top of her on purpose as far as she knew, but afterwards he'd looked all serious and calm and collected and elfish and he'd said he never intended to fall on top of her or frighten her. Why couldn't he just be scary all the time, so that she knew how to act around him, and so that she didn't have to be shocked every time he did something remotely kind in an indirect way? Why did his touch still linger in her mind? Elf magic? He'd paralyzed her? Given her mind some sort of elf virus?

* * *

Before now, he had only seen that indifferent mask of hers – that cold, collected face. It had came to annoy him, and he had grown sick of it.

The days that followed the bed sheet incident, however, were different. Paige's face was colder and more distant than before by far, and she made sure there was several yards between them at all times. That didn't surprise him, nor bother him. He was fine with it, in fact.

Now all his mind seemed to remember when he looked at Paige, was the terrorized face she had unwillingly shown him. Thus, instead of being annoyed when Paige showed him her calm mask, he was also annoyed when he recalled her expression, simply because it looked so strong. In other words, her face, no matter what it expressed or didn't express, vexed him.

He no longer even looked at her. This decision was seemingly fine by her.

* * *

Standing in the large, dark monitoring room, studying radars and maps while waiting for results, stood professor Hojo. A few others were with him – pretending that they were working – but he paid them no heed.

There had been complications.

The _remnants _Shinra had sent out to trace and find Sephiroth were having trouble. In this modern age, things such as country and state borders meant nothing to them. Something that simple had gotten nearly every one of the remnants caught by the police or others. At the time being, all Shinra knew was that Sephiroth was in the northern hemisphere – either in the United States or even farther north. All the remnants had been on their way north, or towards the northern part of America.

In any case, despite all the setbacks with the otherwise useless _remnants_, Shinra was ready to go to Sephiroth the moment they found his location. The questions now were whether he was alive or not (personally, for Hojo the latter was not even an option), and what to do about him once they found him.

If he was still injured, that would certainly help.

* * *

As more days passed, Paige calmed down. Sephiroth seemed better. She still made sure there was plenty of space between them, though, in a slightly (or not so slightly) paranoid attempt to keep herself safe. Anybody would do it with a muscular guy like that around.

Admittedly, he didn't look too dangerous wearing black _Puma _pants and a white t-shirt, but a half glance in the vague general direction of the air around his face revealed that he was still evil. That's what it seemed like to her, anyway, when she looked at him.

Even so, recently the mood had been more... easy-going. Or at least not as _hostile _and _evil. _Even John Smoth relaxed.

"Damn, it feels good ta be a gangsta'," he squeaked quietly while looking at Sephiroth, who watched the news on tv. When the silver-haired man didn't react, John Smoth straightened his short back a little.

"You're not a gangster," Paige mumbled. Although he was a parrot, John Smoth was a huge pussy.

In the corner of an eye, she saw Sephiroth pay particular attention to the news. She picked up a few words about some people being stopped at borders here and there. She didn't pay too much attention, though. John Smoth kept on talking, not minding his language despite Sephiroth's presence.

* * *

The next day was worse. At least for Paige.

"I can't believe it. Today's Friday, and school starts on Monday." Her voice sounded dead. She vaguely noted that her face must look even deader. There was no way she was going to manage to eat her breakfast this morning. Not when she was this depressed.

John Smoth nodded his head exaggeratedly.

"Whadda beautiful day ta be free," he said, just like before. Paige looked around to see if Sephiroth was there, then gave the bird a dark scowl.  
"Blasted bird," she muttered, not really being serious, because she enjoyed Smoth's company. At times.

"I'm hot 'cause I'm fly, you ain't 'cause you not," he rapped, and Paige was about to make a mocking face. She stopped when she felt air shift at her side.

Sephiroth?

She turned, and immediately initiated full defence measures all over her face.

It was Sephiroth, all right, and he was being very bare-chested at the moment. All that covered him were a few large band-aid -like bandages where he was wounded.

"Might I inquire about the whereabouts of your clothes?" She was breathless.  
Scowling, Sephiroth nodded sideways towards his cloak and some other of his things, which she had folded in a pile on the living room table.  
"Oh." Her voice was apparently defect. John Smoth spoke instead:

"I'm hot 'cause I'm fly, you ain't 'cause you not," he repeated from earlier, and this time, the elfish man was oddly amused.  
"Fly, you say," he muttered. The bird rustled its feathers.

"Sephiroth," Paige spoke, then resisted her urge to open her mouth and pull his name back in, because she didn't realize she'd said it before the word was out.

He paused briefly, then spoke. "My wounds have healed almost completely. I will leave soon," he said, shrugging his arms into his cloak.

Paige frowned, but instantly evened out her face just as his eyes snapped to hers. He got his usual, irritated look on his face when their eyes connected, and Paige averted her eyes. Had she insulted him or something?

"What, like, today? Then... what about your sword? You don't know where I hid it," Paige asked, and again she was surprised by how that sounded. Like she was keeping him from leaving. His expression darkened and he scowled. She regretted her words.

"Whether or not you return my sword, I will be taking it with me when I leave," he said darkly, adjusting the buckles on his coat. He was already wearing his boots.  
"I know," she retorted. "Even if I use your sword and you use a toothpick, you'll still win." It was the unmistakable truth, and depressingly so.

Sephiroth was now fully dressed. His leather coat was on, as were his boots and gloves. All that was missing was his sword.

_Huh?_

Was he leaving? _Now?_

* * *

**R.R.**

Such a short chapter... But I decided that I wanted a cliffhanger! Har-har.


	8. To Europe

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

I had much fun with this chapter! :) Hm-hm-hmm...

* * *

To Europe

* * *

"You're leaving," she said in wonder, watching the tall, leather-clothed man with silver hair. She figured she should guard her face.

"I have matters to attend to. I will return afterwards for my sword," he said in a voice that reeked with cold authority. Once he had his sword, though, would he leave and never come back...?

"I got my _eye _on you," claimed John Smoth, moving to one end of his T-shaped wooden stand.

"Not for long," Sephiroth muttered as he turned and left.

Paige didn't know what kind of _matters _he had to attend to, but if he didn't insist on bringing his sword along, that must mean it was nothing dangerous. Not _too _dangerous, at least.

"Ah!" she exclaimed upon hearing the entrance door shut. He really _was_ leaving? Right now, this very minute? Suddenly in a hurry, Paige ran to one of the big windows in the living room and looked for any sign of the man outside, but he was already gone. Only green fields and forests as long as her eyes could see. Some long seconds passed as she searched for him among the trees along the road. She grew annoyed at first, when she couldn't see him, then disappointment took over. He had left, just like that, and now she realized that deep in her mind, she had hoped he would at least offer her a semblance of _thanks _for letting him stay in her little house. A little too much to expect, perhaps.

* * *

Sephiroth inhaled the wind that rushed past him, holding back a smirk as he relished in the feeling of the air coursing around him. The sun was scorching and the wind was cooling, and above him the sky was so blue and open he occasionally found himself searching for clouds looming on the horizon, which he was quickly approaching. Below, the scenery was stunningly green, but he paid no attention to it – he was too high up in the sky to heed to the small details below, whether they were trees, houses or mountains.

He was flying – quite literally flying, although he had no wings.

A few times his flight was disturbed by airplanes, which made him dive lower or rise higher to get out of sight. The only sounds he could hear were that of the surging wind and the relentless billowing of his coat. The absence of his Masamune hovered in the back of his mind, but it was best not to bring it where he was going.

Many things could be said about Sephiroth, but none could call him a fool. He was not witless enough to think Shinra wasn't searching for him. Recently, he had considered the possibility of them using _remnants _to track him. It had come to mind when he watched the news and the news anchor had explained that several confused persons had been stopped at the borders of many different states and countries. Their description had matched the behavior of the remnants. And, carrying the same cells in their bodies as he did, the remnants would attempt to track him down and thus lead Shinra to him.

Which was why he was going to London.

Needless to say, Sephiroth was not a person who wasted time, so he had other matters to attend to at the same time. First of all, he would visit a bank and withdraw money. Having been in his position for as long as he had, he had plenty of money to spare. Until now, Shinra had provided about everything he needed, so his money had simply gathered interest for years. His bank account ought to hold everything he currently wished for.

Of course, if Shinra had dared to bar or close his bank account, he might have to do something slightly more drastic to get his hands on money. He needed it to buy clothes for himself that fit – he had no other clothes than those he was wearing. Also, after his long flight, a hotel room might serve him well.

Shinra needed to think he was in London, so if he felt up to it, he might even decide to show himself in public, to lead Shinra even more astray. Of course, withdrawing money in London would also lead Shinra closer to him if they were monitoring his bank account. If he overdid things, Shinra would become suspicious, but what damage could it do? After he left the city, they would have no idea where, nor how, to find him. As for the remnants, he would see to it that they were taken care of. He, too, could sense the cells of Jenova that _they_ carried.

* * *

Paige was so _bored_.

She wondered where Sephiroth was and when he would return.

* * *

It was almost completely dark outside by the time he reached the western shore of Ireland.

For hours he had flown far above the surface of the waves at a speed impossible for any other human to achieve than himself – if he could be called human. He had never flown this far before. Never had he experienced such raw power surge through him so steadily for such a long time. It wasn't hard to guess why. His whole being knew with utter certainty that he had healed almost completely, and that he was on his way to openly challenge Shinra. Just the thought of it gave him a thorough sense of satisfaction. The unfamiliar, fresh air and the salty smell of the crashing sea waves were just an added bonus.

By the time he reached the shore of England, the air was not as refreshing, however, and there were a lot more airplanes – even a few helicopters. None spotted him, apart perhaps from when he noticed an airplane just in the nick of time to dive out of its view – his dive had been so low that people might have caught a glance of him from the rooftops in Plymouth.

When he finally approached London, he'd had his fair share of airplanes and went straight to the closest bank. He was lucky it was still open – it was past closing time already. The majority of those who worked overtime there watched him closely while he was there, and he was certain that half of them held their hands close to the alarm buttons he guessed were hidden all over the bank. He held back his dark annoyance, though, and requested for them to hand over the money that were rightfully his. After this, he would like to rid himself of his money-related credit and debit cards and such (which Shinra could use to trace him), so he asked to withdraw as much money as possible. A lot of fuss was made about it, because he had nothing to carry it in, and it was so much he couldn't carry it without looking suspicious. Not that he looked normal to begin with, he added in his mind when he caught some people staring.

In the end Sephiroth was so sick of wasting time that he bought a couple of bags from a few people who worked there. They didn't complain or argue, obviously – the bargain was in their favor, and even if it were not, a glare would no doubt be enough to change their minds.

After that he found a hotel, checked in and dropped off his money.

* * *

Saturday morning, Paige was busy wallowing in self pity. Well, that, and milk and cereals and warm chocolate, true to her milk-aholic nature. Her anemia would worsen for sure, if she kept this up.

_School, _she thought bitterly, the word sounding hoarse and shadowy in her mind.

Only two nights separated her from her first day of another year of school. To tell the truth, the lessons weren't that bad, and the teachers were interesting enough. What worried her was her fellow school students – her classmates in particular. This year, like all the others, would start with the declaration of who was to be the ravenous school princess and the handsome school prince. All the other students would be forever stamped as background characters.

Personally she didn't mind being in the background. It allowed her to blend in. She preferred it, actually.

But it was never particularly easy for her to blend in when _Solomon _was around. _Solomon_, the son of her karate teacher. _Solomon_, the guy who was always so frighteningly kind to her. _Solomon_, whose wavy hair was so blond his hair was almost white, and whose eyes were so blue that the sky was a gray poop or something in comparison.

_Solomon_ held the title of _school prince_.

The attention he gave her never failed to get her in trouble with the army of girls who served the school princess.

She sighed deeply with a great ache inside, then turned on the news channel with a helpless feeling while drinking milk. At least she didn't have to keep up her face facade for the moment.

* * *

Sephiroth had not bothered to buy a proper bag for his money. The ones he brought from the bank were too small, and too many. Instead, he had bought a big, black trash bag of plastic, in which he now carried his money around. No matter where he went, people turned after him. It never ceased to satisfy him when people looked into his face for a second too much and he looked back, causing them to flinch and turn away. He'd already visited all the shops he needed to visit, and each time – without fail – the shopkeeper's jaw dropped when he or she saw Sephiroth open his "wallet": the plastic bag. He had bought some clothes, as well as different things he deemed necessary for the not-so-distant future. Soon he was back in his luxury hotel room again, still angry after yet another maid had tried to visit his room to clean it or to offer him food.

The room service was unnecessary. He wished to be left in peace.  
Or, he wished his _room _to be left in peace. Personally, he wouldn't mind attention – to fool Shinra.

Now for his plan.

Smirking, he left his room and walked up to the roof, from which he jumped and raced through the air. Relishing in the rush of adrenaline, he flashed a dark smirk and steered in between the tall buildings with great speed, flying low. People saw him, no doubt, but he doubted they could see _what_ he was. They only saw a blur.

The second he found the building he was looking for, he charged straight towards it and crashed through one of its large windows.

Once he was through, shattered glass and screaming people were everywhere, but he could tell nobody were hurt. They were frightened, obviously, and quickly escaped his path when he strode forward. He was in a building where news were being broadcasted around the clock. Thinking back, Sephiroth should probably have waited until the afternoon or something like it, so that there were more watchers. He wanted to get out of London soon, though – before another maid tried to lock herself into his hotel room to offer room service. Where was the "_Do not disturb_" sign when he needed one?

Clearing his mind, Sephiroth marched straight to the floor and the room in which the news were being broadcasted. They were going live.

_Perfect._

Now, of course, if Sephiroth had chosen to wear his usual clothes and appear on television, he would never again be left in peace, no matter where he decided to live in the future. Therefore, he had effectively equipped himself with more normal clothing. Only Shinra would be able to tell that it was him. That said, his new, temporary appearance was not something he particularly enjoyed.

* * *

Paige was about to switch to a more exciting channel when something interesting happened. The two news anchors seemed genuinely terrified for some reason. They stared past the cameras in disbelief, or perhaps confusion, which gradually grew to fear. She soon found out why.

A man stepped into the screen slowly, behind them.

"Don't turn off the cameras," said the man. The news anchors' eyes flickered, but they didn't dare to turn around.

Paige's eyes bulged. A terrorist? But he wore a formal-looking suit... Instead of a shirt, though, he had a hoodie inside the jacket. The hood effectively covered the man's head and face, except his jaw, mouth and nose. Was this a trick, some sort of show? The man was tall and looked almost as muscular as Sephiroth. Paige's eyes snapped to the sofa spot Sephiroth used to sit in and watch the news, then mentally slapped herself for thinking of it. For a second she thought the man on the TV looked like Sephiroth, but thought better of it. The news channel was broadcasting from England somewhere. Sephiroth couldn't possibly have gotten to England overnight. Not from here, from Canada's bushes, with no car and no intention to use his money anywhere Shinba or Chinra or whoever it was could trace him.

The overly suspicious news broadcast-hijacker-man-person spoke.

"I'm only here to inform my former superiors that they're making a mistake, trying to trace me," the man on the TV said, slowly and deliberately, his voice all smooth and velvety. The black suit and the gray hood fit him, Paige figured, and mentally slapped herself again. What if he was really dangerous? What was he planning? Her eyes were glued to the screen, and her ears must be thrice their usual size, she felt. But, that voice...

"...I still have the Black Materia," he continued, even quieter this time. The two news anchors beside him looked like they were peeing their pants.

"Takin' chances. I got my _eye _on you," declared John Smoth, leaning forward to look at the TV screen too. He rustled his feathers.

"Shh," Paige urged, but there was no need, apparently, because suddenly the hooded man seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

Security guards ran after him off the screen, and the last they saw of the escaping man was a smirk. Paige rose to her feet, immensely annoyed that she couldn't see what was going on behind the cameras. She was just about to switch to another news channel to see if they were already on the spot outside the building, but stopped. Four different mini-screens appeared on her small television. One screen showed the two news anchors, who were now busy commenting like crazy. The second and third screen showed the building from the outside, from different angles – on one side of the building she saw a broken window. The last screen showed the broken window from the inside.

Then another window broke on the side of the building as something crashed through it – a black ball or object.

Paige sat on her knees in front of her tiny flat screen television, everything about school forgotten.

"Holy calamity! Scream insanity!" screeched John Smoth, flapping his wings this time.

The thing that had practically erupted through the newly broken window was the hooded man.  
And now, that man was _flying_ all over the place.

_Flying._

"Unholy freaking crap," she muttered. A movie trick. A commercial for Pepsi or Coke or something. It just had to be.

"Shut yar mouth," commanded the parrot, in a voice very much like that of her mother, although her quiet mother would never say something like that.

* * *

Sephiroth had never seen this many wide, round eyes, nor had he ever been given this much attention. He also wasn't so sure if it was smart for this many helicopters to be crowded in the small airspace around him. In between the helicopters used by news broadcasters, he had even spotted a military helicopter, which only pleased him more. He was holding his hood down with a hand, but just in case it flew off during his windy escape, he'd purchased a large beanie. Despite himself, he'd swallowed his pride and stuffed his hair in it to hide it. The suit he was wearing felt unusual and not comfortable to fly in, but there was no helping it.

With no more hesitation, he maneuvered in between buildings at top speed – none of the helicopters stood a chance in their pursuit.

Once he was certain he'd shaken them off, he raced back to the hotel to pick up his things. They were many, though, and heavy. He stood in the bedroom for some seconds, thinking. As his gaze fell on the bed, he had an idea. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Sephiroth tore the bed sheets off the bed and decided to use only the one that had covered his duvet. The duvet clothing worked as an even bigger "bag" than the large plastic trash bag he already had for his money. Before long, all his money, his new and old clothes, and his items were in said duvet sheet. Sephiroth wished it were another color, such as for instance black, rather than being covered by expensive white-on-black baroque-style patterns.

Nothing of his was left behind for others to trace.

He left through a window and was out of London in a matter of minutes. Needless to say, he was rather visible carrying the full duvet sheet. It slowed him down as well. If he moved too fast, the sheet would undoubtedly be torn asunder. To add to that, with all the people of London in the streets, it was only a matter of seconds before somebody took a picture of him with a cellphone and sent it to the first news agency they could think of.

Sephiroth raced straight up in the air, side by side with the countless looming buildings and skyscrapers. Moving vertically at high speed, he continued straight up, heading for the clouds. Helicopters followed him from below.

At that he uttered a short laugh, smirking briefly before he plunged into the cold, wet clouds. Instead of breaking through them to bask in the morning sun on the other side – and becoming an open target for all the helicopters – he fled southeast. He was already soaked, and he had no doubt a lot of the things in the duvet sheet were wet as well. At least the money were still protected by the plastic bags. His leather coat was worse off. As for the suit, hooded sweatshirt and hat he wore, he could not care less.

Now for the next step of his plan. He was going to try to shake off the remnants. Just as they knew his location, he could pinpoint theirs. Their presence was weaker than his by far, though, so he would have to put in some effort.

Then he would return to his Masamune.

* * *

Paige groaned with exasperation.

Just when the news channel helicopters thought they had lost the hooded man, he appeared again, carrying a stuffed black- and white-patterned duvet. Then the guy simply flew up into the clouds and vanished. After that, several news anchors on several different news channels had cursed the clouds and blamed the weather for the man's successful escape.

"Damn, must feel good to be a gangsta'," said a certain bird. Paige sent him an accusing glare.

* * *

The news of the flying man became known worldwide in a matter of hours. There were already enormous rewards waiting for whoever knew where he might be. People everywhere speculated about where he was from, who he had been talking about during the news broadcast, and even _what _he was. Some claimed he was an alien, others claimed he was some sort of angel, others again insisted that human experimentation had to be the explanation. What on earth was this Black Materia he spoke of, some asked, and how did the 'former superiors' fit into the picture?

Of course, the news reached Shinra as well.

The few remnants who were still out there, those who hadn't yet been caught at borders, train stations, airports and whatnot, had turned in the direction of London.

Hojo was both thoroughly pleased and furious at the same time – he felt very smug about the uproar Sephiroth had caused, but he also knew it was going to be difficult to get him back to Shinra, to Russia, when he was this healthy. His wounds had healed well. To add to it all, he had openly challenged Shinra.

* * *

Sunday evening, Paige was a wreck of nerves. She half lay, half sat in the two-seat sofa in the living room, her nails digging into the leather seats. There were no milk products left in the house. Now the television was off, and the news about the flying man were temporarily forgotten (by _her, _at least), as she was quite preoccupied with thinking about the next day.

The good things were that now she knew a little karate, which she could use to threaten (at least verbally) the school princess' loyal subordinates. If the need arose, she could use it against Solomon too. That would be difficult, though, since he was a more skilled than her in karate. By _far._

The bad things... They were many. First off, last year's (and most likely this year's) school princess had made Paige her eternal enemy because Solomon hung around her too much. Second, Solomon was too kind and nice for her to be rude in return, because if she did, he'd feel hurt and all his fangirls (and the school princess' subordinates) would be furious with her. Third, she'd have to convince her P.E. teacher that she was able to attend Physical Education classes, despite _her own father's _vigorous attempts to explain that she had anemia and couldn't handle physical exertion at all. Fourth on the list, her anemia might become troublesome in more than one way no matter what she tried to do. Fifth, it was a _looong _way to school: she either had to use her feet, or her ancient and rusty bike, or the 200 percent overcrowded, overloaded Bus of Doom (always starring Solomon, fangirls and other frightening creatures).

She breathed in slowly, then sighed so deeply John Smoth rustled his feathers in a goosebumps-like fashion.

"I got my _eye _on you," he squawked.

"Mhm," sounded her response.

"I would be ashamed if I were not aware of that by now," said a third person. Paige started and jumped to her feet and swirled around, her face quickly locking in a dark, bored, sick-looking mask at the sound of the voice she had come to known so well the last couple of weeks.

"_You,_" she said simply – not exactly the warmest of greetings. Sephiroth was still wearing his leather clothes, which seemed oddly damp. Other than the dampness, he looked just like he'd looked when he left. He was still tall, still wore black leather, his dark silver hair was still long, and he still had muscles. Looking at his face, she also recognized (without difficulties) the daggers that were his eyes.

He'd no doubt come for his sword.

* * *

**R.R.**

(: Reviews = Appreciated :)


	9. Handful

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy, nor do I own the world in which this story is written. Obviously.

Sorry for deh late.

* * *

Handful

* * *

"You're back. Where've you been?" Paige asked, her voice a little more serious than she liked.

"...Taking care of Shinra. That is all." Shinra? She'd have to remember that, so that she didn't go around thinking about Chinba and Shenba and Shinri and other possible names. But what was she supposed to say about that? His answer produced a hundred new questions in her mind. How had he taken care of Shinra, and where? Who were they, exactly? Had he called them, hurt them or threatened them? Was Shinra in Canada?

"Care to elaborate?" she asked, staring him down (or up, since in all truth she would never be taller than him).

"No."

A long silence ensued and lasted just long enough for Paige to realize she was so confused she was dizzy. Or maybe it was her anemia.

"My sword?" requested Sephiroth, his voice suddenly stronger, more intent.

His sword. _Oh. _

How could she have forgotten? His sword was the only thing that mattered to him.

"Can't you, er, don't you know where it is?" What she'd originally planned to ask was: _Can't you use some supernatural magic of elfishness to make your sword appear before you? _Good thing she came to her senses before she said that, though, since if she hadn't, she would probably be elf food right about now. In any case, she felt reluctant to tell him where the huge, sharp, unnaturally long weapon was, because for the very first time ever, _she _had a tiny upper hand. She knew where the sword was and he did not.

Her feeling of superiority lasted for two seconds before it was blasted into tiny pieces by one of Sephiroth's darkest, most threatening glares so far. It was enough to make Paige step back, sit down and avert her gaze. The sofa was suddenly _really _interesting.

"I'll tell you. But, I..." Paige hesitated. Sephiroth had stayed there for only a few weeks, but after buying all that extra food and all those bandages and whatnot, didn't she have a tiny, small, teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy, miniscule little right to ask for something in return?

"What?" he demanded, impatient. Not as impatient as she had feared, though.

"I'll tell you where your sword is if you'll let your clothes dry first and eat some food. If I'm going to release a strong, dangerous guy with a weapon, I might as well do it thoroughly. I don't want to be remembered as _the girl who was an annoyingly lousy host._"

_Wow. _Word volcano? Bracing herself, Paige looked up while keeping her face straight.

Sephiroth's face was utterly unreadable. Thank goodness.

… Perhaps she could take that as a yes.

* * *

After they'd both had some supper, Sephiroth sat down on his usual spot in the living room. There he kept himself busy with the news, which he watched with remarkable amusement that almost scared both Paige and John Smoth to death. Sephiroth was almost smiling, his smirk growing mercilessly each time the _flying man_ in London was mentioned. Paige was beginning to find it suspicious. Both Sephiroth and the flying man were having trouble with their superiors, and they had the same build and height. Then again, a lot of other muscular men with work problems existed in this world.

"You know him?" she asked, thinking Sephiroth would say no right away.

But he didn't say a thing.

"...You know him, don't you," she tried again.

He didn't answer. In the end she grew tired and went to bed, not bothering to wait for Sephiroth to finish watching news. If he knew the London man, or if Sephiroth and the London man both knew Shinra, it was none of her business – she'd be boiled, fried and cooked by Sephiroth's burning eyes if she asked more than she already had.

That said, if he wanted his sword, he'd have to wait for tomorrow.

* * *

The next day was by far the most trying in her entire life.

Paige was awoken by the sun and was almost scared to death, thinking she had overslept. The minute she got out of bed she was given a second shock as her alarm clock sounded. Then she realized she hadn't prepared clothes the day before, and to her disbelief, all the clothes in her closet had somehow turned outdated and unwearable overnight. In the end she chose black jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt, despite the warmth. If the heat became unbearable, she had a black wife-beater tank top underneath. She found that the colors she chose very much described her mood.

In the kitchen she was reminded of the lack of milk and other edible foods. There were only apples left, and water.

To add to that, her ancient, rusty bike was covered in spider webs.

Once she finally got on the road, things went out of control. On the way to school she met three ominous creatures. One, a black cat that ran over the road; two, another, fatter black cat that jogged over the road; three: the super crowded, open-windowed, alarmingly full, overloaded Bus of Doom. And her rusty bike was rustier than she'd anticipated. By the time she finally got to her school, it was squeaking like a dying brontosaur. If that wasn't enough, she was sweating.

* * *

Sephiroth went downstairs right after Paige left.

One of the first things he noticed was a small note in the kitchen, which said there was no food left and that Paige was planning to buy some on her way home from school, if she survived. _If she survived? _Surely school couldn't be that dangerous. Under that note lay another, smaller slip of paper. _If I get home, I'll show you where your sword is. That's a promise. I might die today, though, several times. You have no idea how people at my school are. Nothing can describe them. I hope you won't mind waiting,_ the second note said. What was this? _If _she got home? She might die?

Sephiroth was starting to get curious. Her school and its students sounded interesting.

Since there was no food, and since Sephiroth had had his fair share of news the day before (and also since he did not intend to stay put and listen to John Smoth's squawked rapping), why not go pay Paige's school a visit?

* * *

_My school, _Paige thought.

It was positioned on an idyllic-looking peninsula wedged between a mountain and the broad Columbia river. It was at the very end of the road, so those who wished to leave or enter had only one route to choose, unless they owned a boat or knew how to swim in currents. Other than the river and the road, Paige knew of no way to escape except the air, but she had no such thing as a helicopter. There were four buildings: One for each of the three classes, as well as one main building. The main building contained the teachers' offices, but also had a cafeteria, wardrobes, an information desk and different gym facilities. Around the premises were green, freshly cut lawns with flower beds, a fountain, parking lots and large trees that provided shelter from the scorching sun.

The place would have been amazing if it hadn't been for all the people. There weren't few, but not too many either – about three hundred people in all. More than enough for Paige.

It took all her willpower not to dive into the bushes and hide behind trees, cars and trash bins on her way to the main building.

"Paige!" an enthusiastic, dangerously familiar voice called behind her. Every cell in her body froze, her eyes almost popped out, her knees almost buckled under her with fear, and her mind screamed _run._

And she _did_ run.

She raced through the crowd and moved between students and teachers and freshmen and kept running until she thought she was, to some degree, safe. Even then, she continued walking quickly until she was in the gym hall – where all the students and teachers were supposed to meet to get information about the next school year. It was a dreadfully boring thing, for most people. Once there, Paige slunk suspiciously to an empty seat and sat down, wishing furiously that she had worn a cap to hide her face. She was trembling. At least her face was as dead as it could possibly become.

The next few minutes passed at a snail's pace.

All was well.

That is, until the school bell rang and somebody sat down next to her. Paige turned to see who the broad-shouldered man was, and almost choked on her tongue, lungs, throat and everything else that was between her mouth and her belly.

Solomon.

The school prince.

Her death sentence.

Paige leaned away slowly, her eyes wide with terror – it was silly, really, because he was no physical threat to her. She was sure he would rather die than physically hurt her. Slowly, as if in slow motion, he turned to her. She registered with dread that his shoulders were broader than before the summer holidays, and that he looked frighteningly more grown-up since the last time she'd seen him. His hair was still the same – a very light blonde shade, his thick locks wavy. His eyes were still blue enough to put the sky to shame.

"Paige," he greeted, smiling softly with such genuine happiness that Paige didn't know what to do.

"Why're you sitting here," she demanded in a whisper. She sounded... constipated. Solomon just smiled.

It was only day one, but she was already doomed to eternal misery at the hands of the School Prince and the School Princess. Paige was going to die now. Solomon belonged to the School Princess, after all, and that person would not tolerate anything else.

After the longest one and a half hour of her life, the students were told to follow their teachers to their new homeroom. Paige was gone from her chair before Solomon could speak the first letter in her name. Once they got to their homeroom, she made sure the seats were full all around her so that Solomon could not sit down next to her. To her horror and disbelief, though, he magically appeared next to her anyway, probably having bribed somebody to give him their seat. She couldn't pay attention in class at all. She knew with utter certainty that Solomon occasionally glanced at her – his gaze was so piercing and warm that she could physically _sense_ it when his eyes were on her. When that happened, she looked away.

In every break, she used all her skills and did all that was in her power to avoid the blond man. What happened then was that he started asking around for her, and word spread that he was searching for her. She heard some girls muttering she didn't deserve having one such as Solomon interested in her if she was just running away. Frankly, she agreed. He was good-looking, abnormally kind and polite, always had a joke in store, he was strong and safe. And he was rich. Against him, karate wouldn't work, because he already knew it. No matter what she said, he always twisted her words around or sent her a look of hurt that was so strong none of his fan girls would ever forgive her for what she had done to him. In short, she couldn't physically hurt him, or insult him, or make him (in a polite way) realize he had to stop following her.

At lunch, she gladly ate her food in the girls' bathroom. She needed energy if she wanted to survive running all the way from the main building to where her stone age bike was parked. Thank goodness the first school days were short.

* * *

When she got home, half dead, the last thing she expected to see was a smiling Sephiroth.

The sight confused her so much she escaped to her room, took a shower and changed into fresh clothes. When she opened the bathroom door – finally beginning to calm down – she was caught by surprise yet again by Sephiroth, who was blocking her path this time.

"Ah, your sword, I know... I'll find it now," she said, and moved closer.

He didn't move away.

"Is something wrong?" she asked and stepped back a little, daring to glance at his face.

And there, she found only wonder. _Wonder. _No hostility. Mild amusement, perhaps, but nothing more.

A vivid image of Solomon appeared in her mind and she automatically retreated back into the bathroom, slammed the door shut and locked it. There, she stayed – clutching the door handle with one hand and her heart with another – until she heard him leave. Feeling ashamed, she slowly opened the door again and walked downstairs only to find Sephiroth gone. John Smoth said nothing when she asked where he was, so she decided to go buy some food. They sorely needed it. Maybe then she would finally calm down.

When she returned, Sephiroth was still not there – not in the guest room, either.

Taking a deep breath, she slumped down on the sofa and tried to relax completely. In her chest, her heart felt heavy, in a way bruised. Was it stress? Fear? She couldn't tell.

* * *

Sephiroth walked into the house quietly, having finished his errand somewhat later than he'd hoped. He had been at Paige's school.

Inside he half expected to see an overly stressed Paige.

Earlier that day, he had followed her to school out of curiosity. Anything was more interesting than staying in her small house. Since she had described her school and the people there with such strong fear and dislike, he had found himself compelled to find out what could distress her so. Therefore he followed her, half hoping to see extraordinary things. The second he saw the students and teachers swarming about, he was reminded of Shinra. In comparison, however, Paige's school seemed harmless. Sephiroth could see most of what happened at a distance. The many large windows made it all the more easier.

Then, after a while, he had spotted the person who must be _Solomon. _Before that, he had strongly doubted the things Paige had said about the blond man. However, what she claimed appeared to be no less than the truth. Solomon had eyes for nobody else but _her, _and as a result a startling number of girls sent hostile looks in Paige's direction. Her usual expression had slowly dissolved into one of agony as the day wore on. Solomon seemed to Sephiroth as the sort of person who was polite to everyone – he showed a sort of innate kindness towards everybody who came and talked to him. Solomon himself, however, did not approach anybody else than Paige, who in turn made a great effort to avoid him. And there was a_ third_ person involved as well – a woman who seemed to be in charge of quite a few other girls. Whereas Solomon was the boy who got the most attention from the girls, the other woman caught the eye of most of the boys. Yet, despite everything the young woman tried, Solomon only treated her like he treated any other. He only had eyes for Paige.

Sephiroth wondered why.

The whole school was full of intrigues, gangs, unrequited love and numerous other dilemmas typical for school life. It was a wonder the teachers managed to get some of the students to listen at all.  
He should very much like to teach them some _discipline_ – their lack of obedience irked him. For a moment he wondered how they would cope if they tried the Soldier training program.

Sephiroth stopped as he entered the living room.

Paige lay splayed on the two-seat sofa, asleep.

Considering the situation for a moment, he decided against doing anything and went to his room. What he had to announce could wait for tomorrow.

* * *

The next day Paige went to school prepared.

This time, she would not escape. She would not run. Today she would only _ignore _Solomon – and whoever else deigned it necessary to threaten her. Paige's determination was largely fuelled by a breakfast consisting almost of milk only, as well as the knowledge that since today was only the second day of school, there would only be two double-classes. Two English lectures after one another, and two Physical Education sessions. She would survive. To be more effective, she was already wearing running shoes, black workout pants and a Yellow T-shirt of Confidence.

She lingered a little before she left, though, because she figured she should show Sephiroth his sword. But when she knocked on his door and opened it, he wasn't there.

Oh, well. School it was, then.

* * *

Solomon nearly killed her in the English lectures. The instant the teacher told them to read in pairs, Solomon rose and quickly swung his chair over to her desk and gracefully placed his book next to hers and smiled questioningly, all before any of the other students had moved a finger. Gathering all her guts and courage and willpower, Paige survived only by reading aloud mechanically. By the time the class was finished and Solomon returned to his desk, all her energy was depleted and she sprawled her arms over her desk and let her head rest on top. This, she soon learned, was a huge, enormous, disastrous mistake. Solomon mistook her weariness for sickness and bent down next to her, softly uttering words so caring and worried that Paige almost fainted for real. He even offered to take her to the school doctor. Instead of replying, she gathered the isty-bitsy, tiny little piece of energy she had left and rose to her feet, then strode out of their homeroom.

How was she supposed to survive two consecutive P.E. lessons after this?

Remembering how P.E. was before summer break, Paige shuddered. Usually she spent every minute of it trying to outrun the much too companionable Solomon, and then the rest of the class desperately tried to keep up. Most of the girls usually gave up within half a minute, though, and sat down and watched. No P.E. teacher had ever managed to get things right with the slackers. Speaking of classes: If she could, Paige would have loved nothing more than to switch from her class to another, to avoid Solomon. But she had already tried that – and he _always _followed her.

Feeling gloomy, she opened the door to the gym hall and stole inside, slinking along the wall behind the others. They were all busy chatting, or gossiping, Paige thought. She found their voices a bit more hushed than usual. Solomon was there, but he hadn't seen her yet.

_Good._

"Line up by the wall," a man demanded, and the voice was so full of authority that Paige almost threw herself to the floor to protect herself against its force.

She knew that voice.

She _knew that man._

Unable to help herself, she stood on her toes and peeked over the heads of the others in her class. And sure enough, there he was, the silver-haired man whose elf-like beauty and pronounced muscles caught even the eyes of the boys. The boys looked at him with mixed feelings – some with awe, others with suspicion and dislike. The girls were just as divided. Some stared with admiration and others muttered things about his distasteful hair style. Unexpectedly, when Paige heard them talk badly about his hair, she felt really irked.

Sephiroth was wearing white running shoes, black workout pants, a white t-shirt and a black zip-up jacket. Around his neck hung a whistle, and in one of his hands was a list on which he'd write who were absent and who were present.

"Line up!" he repeated, louder this time, and all the students scrambled to the wall, Paige included. She was so disturbed and surprised she didn't even notice Solomon stood next to her – she simply stared incredulously at Sephiroth, a bazillion questions racing like a thunderstorm in her head. Or was that adrenaline? No? Confusion? Dizziness? Did she, perhaps, subconsciously expect Sephiroth to help her handle Solomon's presence? She was _happy_?

But why was Sephiroth here? _Why _was he a _teacher? _How did he talk the principal into hiring him?

Sephiroth met her eyes and smirked. Caught off guard, she blushed furiously and almost frowned. Instead her mouth fixed into a straight line. Had she looked to her side, she could have caught a glimpse of a slightly uneasy Solomon.

Within two minutes that was all forgotten, though. Sephiroth made them jog back and forth across the gym hall, demanding them to increase their speed each time. Then they were to do sit-ups until he told them to stop - first normal sit-ups, then sideways, then with their legs above the floor, and so on. In the beginning they did all right, but as time wore on they looked more and more pitiful. A few students claimed to have old knee injuries and such, and asked to be excused from class, but Sephiroth mercilessly told them to show him proof given to them by their doctors. Paige suspected he could tell who lied and who didn't. Then he told them (to her frustration) to do push-ups: as many as they could manage. Solomon beat them all, though Paige was pretty sure that if Sephiroth had tried, things would have ended differently. After the push-ups he made them line up again, and made three-man teams. To her indescribable relief, he didn't put her and Solomon on the same team. To her shock, though, he told them they were to do a relay race. One team member at a time was to run across the gym hall, do ten push-ups, ten sit-ups, twenty squats (each followed by a jump), then run back across the room and touch the shoulder of the next team member, who was to do the same thing.

And after that, Paige was sure that her class was breathing hard enough to make a sailboat move forward.

"That is it for the warm-up. Have something to drink," Sephiroth declared, and everybody paled. Paige sat down on the floor, blinking to make the blurriness in front of her go away.

The rest of the time, Sephiroth made them do so many different relay races and drills that when he told them to shake their legs and arms and stretch their muscles, some students laughed with joy. Paige wouldn't be surprised if 95 percent of the class would be missing the next time they had Sephiroth as a P.E. teacher. Personally she was reduced to a mass of sweating human tissue. That day, a lot of students had problems getting up the stairs leading from the changing rooms. Paige was unable to use her bike home, fearing she'd fall off, so she walked along the road, leaning onto the rusty thing for support. She had a hunch her muscles would be in great pain the day thereafter.

What was Sephiroth doing? Was he just entertaining himself? Maybe this was her punishment for not showing him where his sword was. It was likely. Then again, if he really intended to punish her, and if he knew who Solomon was, he could have put her and Solomon on the same team. Yet he hadn't.

* * *

**R.R.**

Hope you liek!


	10. Family

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

**Goodness, so many über-mega kind reviews! Thanks a LOT for making my heart swoon and melt, guys!**  
This time, the late update was caused by two things:  
Thing 1: Eerrrh... School work (which was delayed by Thing 2).  
Thing 2: The epic manga One Piece, which I've started reading all over again. It's awesome enough to make people faint, especially the newest chapters.

* * *

Family

* * *

The minute Paige got home (after she discarded her rusty bike in the tall grass in the overgrown garden), she strode determinedly into the combined living room and kitchen. She immediately found the one she was looking for. Sitting in one end of the black three-seat couch, with off-white walls behind him and the old, dark wooden table in front of him, Sephiroth looked back at her inquiringly. He seemed to have been expecting her to waltz in like this.

"Children unda' the sun, watch out, we comin' for ya," rapped John Smoth.

"Please be quiet while I question my _teacher_," said Paige monotonously, not looking away from Sephiroth, who was partially illuminated by the late sunlight. _Curse the windows for that. _The silver-haired elf (who was not an elf after all) smirked with something akin to dark amusement.

"I have only two questions," she continued. "_Why'_ve you become a teacher, and _how_? Please answer me." The last sentence she only added as an afterthought. Sephiroth's amusement waned.

"...With Shinra out of my way, I can spend my time as I wish. I found that educating the students about discipline would keep me entertained, if only for a while. They should consider the good training a bonus."

Paige looked at him, questioning. In the background, John Smoth made particularly annoying parrot sounds.

"So you saw their total lack of discipline, and it annoyed you. Or was it the teachers inability to do something about it that bothered you? ...No, is this punishment? Because I haven't returned your sword yet?" asked Paige.

"Your house and its noise bothered me," Sephiroth claimed, not answering her question. "And I was curious to see if your school was indeed as dreadful as your descriptions implied." Paige stared, keeping her face in check. So this was her fault, and John Smoth's. Sephiroth glanced at the squawking bird.

"In any case, your school is better than Shinra," he added and looked her straight in the eye.

* * *

Sephiroth watched carefully as Paige's face twitched.

"...You'll have to wait a while before you say something like that. Next P.E. lesson, I bet half the class will skip." At that, Sephiroth smirked again.

"If that's true, I will search for them and find them before the lesson starts," he replied, already looking forward to it. "You should be grateful, though, seeing as I successfully managed to distract your admirer throughout both the P.E. lessons earlier today."

"What? ...On purpose? You kept Solomon away?" she asked, confusion flashing briefly in her eyes. "Will you continue doing it?" She was restraining herself, he could see it – she was holding back her hope, afraid he would disappoint. This, he could use to his advantage – if the need ever arose.

"That depends," sounded his reply. Paige had asked him why he'd chosen to become a teacher. Sephiroth found himself asking the opposite question – why should he _not _become a teacher, with so many interesting situations and challenges within his reach?

Paige scowled openly, but it was not a fierce scowl – more of a frown.

"But Solomon never stops bothering me. In class, you're the only one who's ever managed to keep him away from me for that long," she said, her frown weakening.

"What did you do to interest him so strongly?" Sephiroth questioned. What did Solomon see in Paige, who was terrified of him, when apparently he had a dozen other girls he could choose from? Her face darkened so fast Sephiroth revisited his question in his mind. If anything, Paige's sinister expression made him more interested in her answer.

"It's a long story." She forced the words out, as if speaking them aloud left a poisonously bad nausea in her gut.

_Do tell, _he thought, watching as Paige slumped down onto the two-seat couch, still wearing her gym clothes – a yellow t-shirt and black workout pants. If she had planned to have a shower as soon as she returned home, she had now forgotten about it. He too wore the black and white clothes he'd put on before class, though since he hadn't taken part in any of the physical activities, his were still clean. The clothes were only some of the ones he had bought in London.

"If you want to know... It started when we were freshmen." She already looked like she was at death's door. "On a school trip, or more accurately hiking trip, in the mountains," she continued, quietly. She bent forward so much her pale, light brown hair hid her face - her straight, bobbed fringes shielded her icy eyes. "The teacher had no control, so we just put up our tents and settled down in the first clearing we found. Below us was a big river, so we had plenty of water. The next day we were startled out of our sleep by heavy rain and wind."

She paused, surprisingly flashing a grumpy expression at Sephiroth, who arched an eyebrow in annoyance and almost scowled back darkly. But then he realized she was looking through him – thinking of someone or something else. Either the story or Solomon, he wagered.

"We packed our things fast and sloppily, and tent pieces were threatening to fly away every second. I'm not sure what happened, exactly, but I think somebody turned around a little too fast while carrying some tent poles. The poles hit Solomon and sent him staggering backwards, towards the river."

The story was _almost_ exciting. What ruined it was its predictability. Paige had saved Solomon?

"I reached out to stop him from falling, but he was too heavy for me, so I lost hold of him. He plunged over the edge and started slipping down towards the river below."

That was slightly less expected. Still predictable, though. He had obviously survived, because he was still around.

"But then, in the most cliché way imaginable, I threw myself after him and grabbed hold of the freshest, largest root I could see with one hand and reached for him with my other. I only managed to catch hold of the wrist of his jacket. And he was heavy like lead and anvils and metal and other things that are intolerably heavy." Now she was starting to look disgusted with what she was saying. Sephiroth listened intently.

"Then I told him not to let go and blah blah, and that I wouldn't let him go even if this and that. At that he pulled himself up some and grabbed hold of my wrist more firmly than necessary, smiling and saying _okay _with complete trust. The others pulled us up after that. I felt like all the joints in my arms were out of their sockets, and Solomon and I were both soaked and covered in mud. Then, true to all the Hollywood action movies, he thanked me thoroughly for saving his life and asked for my name. He was so clingy I just told him. After that disastrous mistake, he's never let me forget all the stupid, brainless things I said to him before we were pulled up. And he's never going to let me forget that I practically jumped after him."

"...Do you wish you hadn't saved him?" Sephiroth inquired. She looked at him, her mask-like expression hiding her initial shock.

"If I hadn't, he'd have been _dead_. Guess how many times he's told me that. But I wouldn't want a death on my consciousness. I _do _wish I'd stayed silent during the whole thing, though, and I never should've told him my name."

Now that he had heard her story, it seemed oddly boring – already old.

"I've tried telling him to leave me alone, and I've tried insulting him, but nothing works. I can't tell him I hate him, because I don't _hate _him, I just strongly dislike his company and behavior. Maybe I even fear him a little. I've told him all of that, only with stronger words, but he says those feelings'll wear off and that I'll grow used to him. I don't want that." Her voice was slightly sulky – enough to make Sephiroth grow annoyed and turn on the television. He left the sound off, however.

"And if I try to hurt him in any way, physically or verbally, I'm in for more trouble than I can survive. The school princess will make sure of that." With that finishing line, Paige rose to her feet and strode out of the room, just like she had entered. Maybe she had suddenly remembered she was wearing gym clothes and wanted to take a shower.

* * *

After a quick shower, Paige put on some slightly less moody clothes (white jeans and a short-sleeved gray shirt) and went downstairs. She poured some bird food in a small bowl, then put in in the window sill closest to John Smoth. He picked at the seeds and started eating while she watched. The colorful bird was a little rounder and lazier than other parrots she'd seen, and very rude, very often, but he was a good guy. Not always that smart, but a good pet.

"Does it taste good?" she asked absently.  
"I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom."

"Okay, I get it, be quiet."  
"Disrespect hip-hop and I'll spit in your face," he retorted.

What was she thinking saying John Smoth was a good guy? She must get her ears checked.

"Paige," sounded another voice, and she turned to see Sephiroth come into the living room. "A car is coming."

_...Car?_

She was quiet and listened. Sure enough – there was the sound of an engine. When she turned and looked out the window, she could see nothing, so she waited. Sephiroth walked closer and stopped next to her, a little too close, and she leaned away. The car sound sounded oddly familiar. _Dangerously _familiar.

Then, under the heavy, green branches that hung over the old road leading to her house, an old minivan appeared.

Paige paled as all the air left her lungs.

"Oh no." The words were a breathless whisper.

Her family's van.

The thing was large and bulky, its surface gray and its windows even darker. The thing made so much noise everyone within the radius of a mile no doubt knew exactly who were coming and where they were going. Through the dark, dirty windows she saw four heads and one small, crazy dog wagging its furry tail. Its currently soundless barks drowned in the sound of the car engine.

"Is it your family?"

She could only nod.

"Shake it and move it outta' here," said John Smoth and took to his wings and flew up onto the dark wooden shelf that stood behind his T-stand. It had been a while since he'd flown around, but in a case of emergency such as this, it was totally understandable.

* * *

Sephiroth briefly considered leaving. Apparently, both Paige and John Smoth considered the arrival of their family to be something of a threat to their existence – if he judged from their sudden rigidness. The bird was on its toes, wings half extended, feathers rustling. Before Sephiroth left, however, he wanted to at least see the guests. If it became unbearable he would leave. Surely they were not staying for long?

Then Paige spun around with a rigorous move and dashed out of the room.

He heard the entrance door open and close and glanced out the window. Paige, still keeping her face utterly devoid of emotion, ran towards the gray minivan, which had now stopped. As the engine was turned off, he heard barking – the shrill sound obviously came from the small dog he'd caught a glimpse of earlier.

One by one they left the vehicle. First Paige's tall, skinny father, whose mustache bobbed up and down as he spoke to one of the others. Then emerged the small, light brown dog – it jumped out the window and raced into the garden, straight past Paige and to the entrance door. There it scratched at the door and continued its endless barking. Sephiroth looked out of the window in time to see two kids get out of the van. One a lanky boy, younger than Paige, with dark hair, two headsets around his neck, bandages covering an elbow, and one hand holding around a cellphone and a music player. His pockets were full of something that looked suspiciously like wires and fuses, and when the boy put his hand into one of them, Sephiroth thought he saw a match fall out. The boy nodded briefly to Paige and flashed a white grin that only made his soot-covered face look dirtier.

The other child was a very young, brown-haired girl who barely reached up to Paige's waist. She was dressed entirely in pink – a great contrast to her brother's mix of brown, black, white, red, yellow and other, indiscernibly colored, untidy clothes. She carried a doll almost half her size – also dressed in pink. Even from where he was standing, Sephiroth could see that she was nervous – perhaps afraid. As if on cue, Paige's mother emerged from the gray van and her young daughter turned around to hug her knees. Sephiroth felt his eyes narrow. Of all the family members, the mother resembled Paige the most. They were almost as tall as each other. Her light, auburn hair was wavy and came down to her shoulders, her clothes were neater than that of the others, and she wore glasses. Like her youngest daughter, she seemed somewhat nervous.

Perhaps Paige's father, Aaron, had told the others that Sephiroth was here.

Sephiroth's train of thoughts was disturbed by the dog, who was still barking furiously.

Outside greetings were exchanged. Then they carried some shopping bags from the car and went inside. The second they opened the door, the small, enraged dog sprinted into the living room and came to a very sudden stop only a couple of feet in front of Sephiroth. The little chihuahua stared him down to the very best of its ability – staying completely quiet while doing so. Sephiroth, who realized this was the second animal (the other being John Smoth) who dared put him to the test, scowled darkly at the dog, whose eyes were disproportionately large and whose anger was disproportionately strong. The dog quickly decided against picking a fight: it left Sephiroth and contented itself by running over to the shelf on which John Smoth sat perched. There, it started barking again.

When he turned back to look into the small entryway, the others were all inside. All at the same time, they discarded their shoes (except Paige, who wasn't wearing any). The shopping bags, full of food, were dropped to the floor and each of the family members repeatedly bumped into one another by accident. Paige walked into the living room and stood by Sephiroth, glancing briefly at the dog. It was still barking.

The others entered slowly.

"Guys, this is Sephiroth. He's renting a room here, and he's also a P.E. teacher at my school." How could she say that in a way that didn't sound suspicious? Her parents nodded briefly in acknowledgement, though.

"Sephiroth, you've already met my dad, Aaron. He's a ranger in the area, and a priest," she started, her voice as even as usual. "And my mum's name is Angela. She's a doctor. Both names start with an A, so you should be able to remember." Sephiroth felt his jaws tighten. If Paige didn't expect him to be able to recall their names, he would take that as an insult.

The dog was still barking. John Smoth squawked occasionally.

"My brother's name's Benjamin. Sooner or later you'll notice he's interested in paintball, motors, music and homemade bombs." Her voice was still flat – and the little dog was still barking like mad.  
"And my sister," Paige started, and her little sister swung around and hid behind the other three. "Her name's Bell. She's the kindest and purest person I know."

A silence ensued, only interrupted once every two seconds by the dog.

"...The dog is Chilli. We gave her the name after realizing mum and dad's names started with an A and Benjamin and Bell's names started with a B. It was all by chance, really. About Chilli's mad barking, we can't tell if she's constantly furious with John Smoth, or if she's dangerously interested in him. That's why I took John Smoth with me here."

"I got my _eye_ on you," said John Smoth, and Chilli's barks grew twice as frequent.

Aaron, Angela, Benjamin, Bell... Chilli. And lastly, Paige.

* * *

Paige glanced around uncomfortably. Her own name started with a P. Alphabetically speaking, she was a deviant.

That was soon forgotten, though, because before she knew it, her mother had invaded the kitchen. Bell was at her feet, glancing fearfully in Sephiroth's direction at times. Her mother was abnormally nervous as well. It was unlike her to make so much noise when she cooked – clattering pans, pots, lids and running water. The news were on, and although Sephiroth was watching intently, Paige's father tried starting a conversation – mostly about school, but also about Sephiroth's background. Paige thought she could see Sephiroth's mouth turning down at the edges. Chilli was still barking, though now the chihuahua was growing hoarse. At some point somebody had left a bowl of water at her feet, so the dog could soothe its throat.

Just when Paige was about to ask about the whereabouts of Benjamin, her brother, the shrill sound of several connected firecrackers were heard from outside, and smoke flew by the windows. Chilli started barking, full throttle, again.

Turning her attention to herself, she realized her brain felt like it was being tugged at from all sides. The strain was unbearable.

"Mum, how long are you guys staying?" she asked over the noise. Benjamin came inside at that moment.

"Paige, do you have any matches?" he asked.

"No. How long're you staying?"

"What?" asked their mum.

"I don't know," said Benjamin.

"I can't hear you," said their mum. "Chilli. Quiet down." The dog shut up and looked at her.

"How long are you staying?" asked Paige, her head threatening to split. Her mother glanced at Sephiroth uncertainly. Something about him genuinely frightened her – more than just his long silver hair and muscular build. Had she seen his eyes? His burning, green irises; the slits that were his pupils?

"... Until this weekend? I don't know." It was only Tuesday.

"I'm sorry, mum, but one of you guys usually use the guest room, right? Sephiroth lives in there now. I only have one extra mattress. Even if you guys use both the sofas, as usual, and the single mattress, there won't be enough room for you all to sleep over."

In a way that relieved her – even though she was happy to see her family again. And didn't Benjamin have school? Perhaps it didn't start before next week, like Bell's kindergarten. That was a little unfair.

Her mum's shoulders sagged a little, and she glanced at the silver-haired man once more.

"Paige... You seem so strained," she said. Benjamin, who'd been looking back and forth between the two of them, sighed in a bored manner and headed outside. Bell peeked out from behind her mother's knees, clutching her baby doll. Her large, chocolate eyes were so warm Paige looked away - fearing her mask would explode into a huge smile at the sight of her precious sister. She wouldn't let that happen while Sephiroth was still here. It was a matter of pride - in a way it was stupid, but in another way it wasn't at all.

"I'm strained now because, before you guys came, it was quiet. You could've left Chilli with a neighbor or something. You should've warned me," Paige stated, her voice level.

"Paige, I'm sorry... But you look... Well, you don't look happy. Are things really all right, with – with your teacher living here?"

How embarrassing. She could feel the embarrassment in the deepest pit of her stomach. Why was that?

"I'm happy, John Smoth's happy, and I think Sephiroth is searching for somewhere else to live already. We're all fine. I'm unharmed. You just surprised me by visiting today." If Sephiroth hadn't been there, maybe she had managed to smile, but she couldn't. She was too used to lock up her expressions in his presence. If she smiled now, it would look incredibly forced – and that would make her mother worry ten times more.

After Paige's reassurances, her mother made food for all of them and served it warm. The two leather couches (one with two seats and the other with three) could only room five people in all, and thus Paige ended up next to Sephiroth. They hadn't been this close since the very unfortunate and mentally painful bed sheet incident (when he'd landed on top of her). Needless to say, she felt like she was sitting on needles, and that she was sending imaginary, hostile sparks in his direction as protection. He was seemingly aware of this – to some degree – because just like her, he was leaning away a little.

After the longest dinner she could remember (and the best meal she had tasted in a very long time), things were a single, large blur. Dishes were cleaned, Chilli continued barking, Benjamin wanted to go home (to fill his arsenal – his pockets – with fireworks), and Bell avoided her because her face was so cold, which made her feel even more worse. Sephiroth had left at some point.

And the moment he disappeared, there were questions.

"Why does he look like that?" and "Where's he from?" and "Don't you think he seems suspicious, or a bit dangerous, even?" and "Why can't he just find another place to live?" This left Paige thinking about Sephiroth's silver hair, his longsword and even Shinra – his previous 'home'.

Before Sephiroth left, she had to give him his sword. Or the other way around – she had to give him the sword for him to leave at all.

But if she gave it to him, he might vanish from her life altogether.

* * *

**R.R.**

Not much action dis tiem? (-gasp-) Wat abut next tiem? Can I make up for it then?


	11. I Believe He Can Fly

Disclaimer 1: I still don't own Final Fantasy.  
Disclaimer 2: I don't own the song "I Believe I Can Fly".  
Disclaimer 3: I don't own the amazing character Solomon (from the anime Blood Plus), who my own Solomon is ripped off. (le _super_-oh-my-gasp!)

Longer chapter than usual to make up for deh lateness...!

* * *

I Believe He Can Fly

* * *

Paige was _almost _glad the others weren't up when she left the house the following day. She had to go to school, after all, and at school, a blond, blue eyed guy would be waiting for her.

To avoid waking up her family, she didn't even eat breakfast. The food was in the kitchen, and the kitchen was in the same room as the living room (where her family slept), so all she did was peek inside. Little Bell slept on the two-seat couch with a small blanket on top of her, and Benjamin occupied the three-seat one. Her mother slept on a mattress. Since the house lacked other furniture that one could sleep on, or in, her dad had valiantly sacrificed himself and thus slept on a pile of duvets and quilts. Despite the current conditions, he seemed to be doing fine – he was snoring like a caffeinated lawn mower.

Once she was at school, everything seemed to her as a soup of incoherent events. This, she guessed, wasn't just because she hadn't eaten anything, but also because she'd hardly slept that night. That was thoroughly annoying – usually she fell asleep within a minute and slept like a rock throughout the night. Lack of food and sleep did nothing good for her anemia, either.

_Thank goodness we don't have P.E. today._

"Are you... doing all right?" Solomon asked from beside her, and she twitched.

"Yes." Her reply was not unfriendly, but not entirely kind either. In other words, as monotone as she wanted it to be.

The rest of the day passed slowly, and she found herself giving one-word answers to whoever asked questions. That wasn't always the smartest thing to do, though, since that made no sense when one of her teachers asked when the famous Einstein died, for instance. She only survived the day thanks to the lunch break, during which she downed an inhuman amount of food (to brace herself for the rest of the day).

Once she got home, her family was at it again.

And of course, the family activities continued until evening. Paige excused herself earlier than usual and went to sleep. This time, she _did _sleep like a rock. Or, perhaps, like a boulder.

The next few days continued the same way. Her mum cooked and cleaned everything that could be cooked and cleaned, and her dad watched news and listened to country and folk music like there was no tomorrow. Paige went to buy matches for Benjamin several times and tried not to break into a huge smile every time she saw Bell (especially when Sephiroth was around), and helped John Smoth ("Shake it and move it away from here!") by walking Chilli as often as she could. John Smoth appreciated it ("You, my lady, I'm ya' man!"). She even brought Chilli to her karate lessons, although she had to leave her behind outside the house. Miraculously, the little chihuahua remained quiet while Paige was training. Back at school she successfully managed to tolerate Solomon to some degree. She thanked her "mask training" and Sephiroth for that.

Speaking of Sephiroth, he hardly visited home. She _had_ seen him hunt students, though, who otherwise would have skipped the Phys. Ed. classes. In fact, the other teachers liked his progress with the students so much that the other P.E. teachers almost weren't there at all – they just left the work to him. There weren't _that _many students, after all. Paige once asked him discreetly at school if he got paid at all, since he refused to have his name in any sort of database that Shinra could trace. At that, he replied that he got paid in cash, and that the other teachers didn't even know his name. Apparently they had all sorts of boring nicknames for him, such as The P.E. Teacher, The Long-Haired Guy, The New Guy, The Commanding Commander, The Silver-Haired Guy and other fantasy-lacking titles.

Then, at long last, weekend arrived – and her family left.

Except for a few warnings from her mother (including that they'd be back later), all was well.

Thank _goodness _for that.

* * *

After her family returned to their own home, time turned into a whirlpool that swallowed Paige whole. All the strain she had felt for days disappeared. As a result, the next days flew past at an almost horrifying rate – turning into weeks before she could even try to count them. Before she knew it, the mornings were darker and much colder, and one day she was thoroughly shocked to find that summer was truly over, and autumn was about to take its place.

"Who'd have thought..." she mumbled moodily, too low for anybody in the classroom to hear what she said.  
"Hm?" said Solomon, who still appeared to sparkle like a sun despite the change of seasons. Paige shook her head and looked out the window.

Little did she know that the next P.E. lesson had in store for them.

* * *

_Dancing._

...So this was how it felt to die.

Because their curriculum required it, and because their headmaster wanted them to learn to dance properly (or, more specifically, dance with _decency_) before the Christmas Prom, they were going to learn how to dance in the P.E. classes (since Sephiroth was apparently the only one who could teach the students without them complaining). Personally, though, Paige was absolutely _not_ planning to go to that dreaded prom. Just like the years before, she'd skulk away in the dead of night and stay hidden until the prom was over. Perhaps she could have enjoyed it if it hadn't been for the dancing - and Solomon. Yet, here she stood, half listening to Sephiroth as he commanded them to discard their running shoes. They had to manage with socks this time, since running shoes were a bit inconvenient when it came to dancing. Sephiroth hadn't even told them to bring dancing shoes as a warning.

But...

_Dancing._

Paige swallowed in an attempt to quell her fear, looking once more at the other students.

_Dancing _most certainly involved body contact with others. Considering Solomon was quite insistent on making her _see _him, her death sentence was already spoken. But, body contact! Couldn't that be considered harassment or something if a student really didn't want to dance?

But nobody wanted to go against Sephiroth, simply because Sephiroth was Sephiroth, and Sephiroths were not beings that one should meddle with. And considering Sephiroth looked thoroughly annoyed that he had to put aside the "normal" training in favor of _dancing, _it was smarter to stay out of his way.

"I'm gonna die," she muttered to herself. This gym hall would be where her soul left her body and went to a paradise without school princes, school princesses and other things that had to do with Solomons and their merciless beauty and kindness. "I _am _gonna die," she repeated, this time almost wanting it.

And so, one minute later, the Dancing Lesson of Doom was upon them.

Paige wore black workout pants and a red t-shirt (and white socks, since she didn't have dancing shoes). She was standing in a corner, almost pissing in her pants every time she glanced up and saw that Solomon was watching her from the other end of the gym hall, smiling carefully; requestingly.

"All right - find someone to dance with. If there aren't enough boys, or girls, simply tolerate it and dance with whomever is left."

_What?! _He'd just told them to _find _partners?!

Wide eyed, literally breathless with fear, she looked up and saw Solomon start to walk in her direction, his elegant strides too fast in her opinion. She stepped backwards and turned around to find the closest door, but to get to it, she had to pass Solomon. Still, honesty speaking, she felt she could run up a wall to escape him right now. Too bad the gym hall had super-high walls and an even more solid ceiling. A blur of colors, which was actually a horde of newly formed dancing "couples", walked past her and onto the dance floor. It gave her a suspicious feeling that everybody had already found somebody to dance with before the P.E. lesson started, even though that was impossible. No one had seen it coming. Speaking of colors and people and faces and the blond, blue-eyed Solomon, she was pretty sure her indifferent 'mask' was on vacation right now. Perhaps it was in Mexico, or Japan, or Hawaii, or Australia, or any other place that was very, very many countries away.

Sooner than she expected, her hand was seized by Solomon's and she turned around, ready to overflow with excuses that allowed her to leave.

"May I have this dance...?"

Solomon looked down at her, smiling apologetically, _softly_, his eyes radiating every gentle emotion Paige knew the name of, and she turned her head away completely. The hand he held felt like it was withering. Very soon, the rest of her body wilted (or so it felt) until she must look like a poor excuse for a rag doll.

The next hour or so did _not_ go well. Not well at all. Paige was too perturbed to manage a single step. The only thing she could concentrate on was keeping her face as straight and calm as possible. That was her number one priority. It was only made worse when Sephiroth announced they were going to increase their speed and add another couple of steps and moves. Those who already weren't doing so well (or who hadn't done anything at all except stepping on the toes of their partners, like Paige) were in for some cruel torture. Thankfully, though she would never admit it, Solomon was patient with her. Paige didn't even catch the name of the dance before Sephiroth told them to take a short break.

"It's called swing. A pretty traditional prom dance," offered Solomon, his velvet voice summoning an alarming number of girls closer. "But still, since we're all beginners, we can hardly hope to become pros after just one Phys Ed lesson..." The last sentence was obviously directed at her, because he glanced playfully at her toes while wiggling his own.

* * *

Leaving the gym hall that day was like stepping into an oasis filled with light and joy and pools and diamonds and rubies and suns and starts and ice creams and hammocks and sandy beaches and soft beds with huge pillows and no Solomons. Paige found herself on the verge of crying with happiness, although when she realized her eyes were wet for real, she became furious with her ignorance.

The next P.E. lesson was also going to be spent dancing. That was what Sephiroth had told them before they left.

For the very first time in her life, Paige wanted to _skip_, or fake illness, or come up with a very plausible excuse that could be used even in front of Sephiroth. It wasn't fair that even as their teacher, all Sephiroth had done last time was to _instruct _them. He hadn't danced at all – not with anyone. Paige had even heard some students say he probably couldn't dance at all.

But she knew better than skipping classes.

Skipping P.E. was asking for trouble – Sephiroth would find her and bring her to the gym hall by her hair if he had to, along with all the others who had originally planned to skip.

Therefore, she went to Phys. Ed. willingly. And this time she was prepared.

For one, she had spent all day reinforcing her mask, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. She was also wearing black workout pants, a black, long tank top, black socks (since she didn't own shoes appropriate for dancing), and even a black hair band, which held up all her light, pale hair in a ponytail. In other words, she must look like she was going to a funeral rather than a Physical Education lesson. _Perhaps _that would repel Solomon. To add to her "mask" and her clothes, she sent a furiously cold Glare of Warning at Solomon every time he looked at her. Annoyingly, he seemed amused – or was that admiration?

"Find partners," Sephiroth ordered.

And Paige watched the others find partners and effectively joined the flow, avoiding Solomon's view for as long as possible. If a girl asked Solomon to dance with her, he wouldn't have the audacity to refuse, right? That wouldn't be very gentlemanly. As if on cue, Paige saw the school princess herself tap Solomon on the shoulder, and he turned. Paige had to think of abnormally many ugly, terrifying things to prevent herself from laughing out very loudly. This was the best she could ever have hoped for!

But her joy was short lived.

Before the others had settled, a large, firm hand seized her wrist and she snapped around with a mix of surprise and anger. Once she saw who her dancing partner was, though, her surprise developed into disproportionately out-of-control shock. She was being pulled along by _Sephiroth._ She followed in his wake, petrified, stupefied and two hundred percent unready. And despite all her "mask preparations" earlier that day, her indifferent, cold expression was very close to coming apart at the seams.

Glancing around, she saw that the others _all_ had partners. That was why Sephiroth had taken her hand.

"I shall demonstrate first, so please pay close attention," he said.

Then she realized she and Sephiroth were on the middle of the floor. The others stood around them in a circle.

_Mask, mask, mask, mask mask mask maskmaskmaskmaskmaskmasmasmas_, she muttered in her mind, keeping her face straight.

"I-I _can't _dance, not for the life of me," she stated, and found that she sounded as constipated as she felt. Sephiroth ignored her. When she glanced past him, she saw Solomon staring back at her, his hand held tightly by the school princess – a colorfully clothed, beautiful girl wearing her hair in a braid – with almost perfect makeup (_almost, _since it was perhaps a little too much).

As Sephiroth quickly explained the dancing moves, Paige listened as if her life depended on it. After a while her face calmed more and she relaxed, because apparently, she and Sephiroth weren't actually going to _dance _all alone in front of the others_, _just demonstrate the dance moves very slowly, step by step. Without even touching each other. After a while Sephiroth told them to try, and once they started doing well, he told one of the students to turn on some music, since there was a boomblaster CD-player by the door. While Sephiroth walked around and corrected the others, Paige stood alone on the floor, smiling _almost _viciously when she saw the school prince and princess dance together. Apparently, she was the only one left without a partner. It suited her well. The dance looked really easy, so it wasn't like she'd miss anything. After a while Sephiroth told them to add more steps and increase their speed – he repeated that a few times – until Paige was thrilled she only had to _watch _and not actually dance. She was off the hook this time.

Or not.

Sephiroth came walking towards her from the far end of the room. In response, her face froze completely. The closer he got, the colder her face turned – a wordless warning that she _did not _want to dance.

Apparently her face had the opposite effect of what she desired, because just as the music faded and the next song started, he stopped in front of her and took both her hands without asking. He placed her hand on his shoulder and held her other arm out a little, whereas his free arm soon touched her waist. She recoiled and almost stepped away, but when she looked into his face, there was no question about it – Sephiroth was _challenging_ her.

And so, she gave him the steeliest glare she could muster – the only thing she _could _do in a situation like this.

Alas, it only took half a minute for her to realize she looked like a fool. The others were snickering, focusing more on her and Sephiroth than on their own partners. Soon she realized that because of _her_, Sephiroth also looked like a bad dancer. He, too, seemed to be aware of that. The dance they were trying to perform was called _swing – _the two partners didn't have to be too close to each other. It had many different moves, but Paige found herself unable to learn any of them. Perhaps their physical distance also meant that it was much harder for Sephiroth to _lead _Paige.

So when the music changed, he didn't hesitate to change tactics.  
This time, Paige really, truly thought she was done for.  
Sephiroth suddenly pulled her _closer._

_What?! Why? What? Eh?! No! No way! Gaah!_ and other incoherent things filled her mind. All she wanted was to push Sephiroth off, or to step away from him.

And so she did.

Only he stepped with her. And he didn't let go of her. Paige couldn't look him in the eye, so she looked away and tried stepping away once more. Again Sephiroth stepped after her. Every time she tried wiggling away, his grip on her waist strengthened. She tried almost running backwards, but they were so close Sephiroth steered her in half a circle instead – still following her while staying close. Their steps were completely synchronized. Now Paige was beyond terrified. She didn't know what sort of dance this was – swing or tango or cha-cha-cha – but Sephiroth seemed insistent on not letting her go. Then _he_ moved first, towards her, and Paige stepped away, always keeping her face cold and her jaw set.

Next he moved forward again, and their legs and ankles and arms and even their chests brushed, to her extreme horror. So she tried stepping away enough to create space between them, but Sephiroth turned it all into a dance of sorts. The others might not see it, but he always clasped at least one of her hands to prevent her from running off. And so they continued their game of cat and mouse – she would try slipping out of his grip and he followed, or he gave chase and steered her in different directions. After a while he put in an extra move or two, some rather elaborate turns and twists that made Paige's stomach swirl along with it, and finally Sephiroth increased their speed. They were moving along twice as fast as the others. All she could see was his silver hair billowing back and forth.

Soon – when she thought she couldn't be closer to peeing her pants, he touched her briefly at her hips, and she bent out of the way. Not long after that he did the same on the other side, and she bent the other way. He was no doubt manipulating her – and because of it, she wasn't even breathing. Sephiroth lead her through a series of impossible moves this way – by touching places she didn't want him to touch. They were almost always close enough for him to practically guide her legs with his own. Enraged with Sephiroth for doing this and with herself for letting him, she glanced up and glared at him so profusely that he halted for a second. Then she stepped against him, forcing him to step back. Thoroughly pleased that she had managed to do so, she smirked in dark amusement and stepped forward again, only this time he sidestepped and swung her around after him. But then her courage faltered again as she thought of their much too close proximity.

This went on and on until she was completely exhausted. Hardly able to move properly, she was being moved around by Sephiroth. She felt humiliated. It must look like she had given herself to him utterly.

When the lesson ended, he let her go and she retreated and slumped down to the floor. She couldn't even muster enough willpower to smile that the dancing lesson was over. She just wanted to go home.

The others slowly left the gym hall, until only a few were left.

"Well done, today," said Sephiroth, who waited until she looked up. Then, slowly, he turned and left.

* * *

For weeks, Paige thought things could never get as bad as that dreaded dancing lesson.

Well, Paige was, as usual, terribly wrong. Right now she was outside, in the forest, in the chilly autumn wind and cold, pouring _rain, _together with the rest of her class.

They were on a field trip.

The teachers in charge were, as always, their Physical Education teacher (Sephiroth) and their homeroom teacher. Thankfully, he had informed them that they weren't going to stay in the wilderness for the night, so people only had small backpacks with them. Paige didn't even have that much. She had mountain boots that were a little too big, loose-fitting jeans and a large, black raincoat. Despite the light-weight luggage, some students were whining that they were going too fast. Therefore it was getting late by the time they started on their way back. Apart from Solomon offering her warm chocolate (it was a temptation she _almost_ couldn't resist), nothing dangerous happened on the way back to their old school bus – except that her anemia was making it hard to breathe. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. Sephiroth had been silent all the way.

"There it is! The bus!" exclaimed a happy boy, running ahead.

"Finally!" And the others followed. Many of them rushed past her and pushed her, so she stepped out of their path for a moment to get some rest and some air.

The bus was parked at a makeshift parking lot at the very end of an old tractor road, high on a cliff with the stunning view of a forest and a large river below. Further away were mountains, which currently looked like no more than dark silhouettes with light halos left by the setting sun. That was all there was to see of the sun, though – she could barely see the Columbia river through the heavy rain and the thick layer of clouds. The rush of the river below was so loud she consciously stepped back from the edge, just to be safe. Bad memories, including Solomon and a similar river, still haunted her.

Gritting her teeth as dizziness suddenly overwhelmed her, she stepped back even more, just in case she fell over. Her anemia – lack of blood – was doing nothing to help her. Mentally cursing it, she turned to the others, who had also come closer to the cliff. Their homeroom teacher was the one who had told them to gather, because he wanted a class photo. That way the students could look back at this trip in the future with "joyful nostalgia", as he put it. Sephiroth was standing a fair distance behind the homeroom teacher. This, Paige guessed, was because he didn't want to end up in a picture that Shinra could somehow trace later.

Solomon stood next to her, a little too close, so she shoved him a little.

He shoved back playfully, smiling. She returned the smile, although hers was significantly less warm.

Then she pushed him with much more strength, so that he crashed into some others, who gladly returned the favor. Before she knew it, all the others were laughing and pushing and shoving so much that Paige turned around – to make sure they were not too close too the edge. The ground was wet, but not really slippery, although it was still raining a little.

And then – from behind – with such force the air was knocked out of her lungs, somebody crashed into her so hard that she fell forward and rolled around.

"Gah!" she exclaimed, ready to extract a very painful revenge as she stood up.

But she stood up so fast that her blood left her head, and not to fall, she stepped backwards.

Bad idea.

_Very_ bad idea.

The last person she saw before she fell over the edge of the cliff was the one who had (playfully) pushed her: Solomon. He looked petrified.

Barring all thoughts that couldn't help her at the moment, she steeled herself for the roaring waters she was about to plunge into. She couldn't even scream.

* * *

Sephiroth had seen everything – he saw Paige step backwards into thin air, and he saw Solomon nearly jump off the cliff after her, screaming her name at the top of his lungs. If it hadn't been for the other students, who held him back, he might have been in the river below already, with Paige.

...Could a person like Paige survive falling into the icy currents below from that height?

_Paige._

And what he did next surprised even himself.

The only way down – no, the _fastest _way down – was the way _she _had gone. Sephiroth found himself lunging forward, past the students, who were now shouting and moving about with shock, without a clue what to do next. He continued running. Discarding the raincoat he had borrowed at the school while moving, he jumped over the edge. He heard some of the students scream as he did. Once he was out of their sight below the steep cliff, he forced gravity away from himself and flew along the surface of the water, scanning the white foam and the much stronger currents below it. He followed the river downstream, searching for any sign of Paige – whether she was alive or not – while making sure the others couldn't see him.

* * *

...Paige didn't know how long she'd been the river when she finally stranded on a small, sand-covered part of the riverbank.

Coughing and spluttering water, trembling with exhaustion and shock, she tried pulling herself up.

Struggling to make her arms work, and failing, she eventually rolled over on her back. To her grand frustration it was still raining and she was so cold her limbs felt ten times as heavy as they should be. Coughing up some more water, she mentally cursed herself for being so indefinitely stupid – who would step step _towards_ the edge of a cliff without even looking where to put their feet? Sephiroth would get her for this. That aside, though, she was physically unharmed, if she didn't count in the coldness that had settled in her bones. But her cellphone! Her cellphone was beyond saving now. Not that she used it much, but, but – ah, it was simply extremely frustrating for it to stop working when she needed it so! How would she contact the others and get help?

There was a clicking noise, a very rapid one, and it seemed to be close. When she realized it was her teeth, and that they were clattering like a broken machine gun, she clenched them together. The clattering only moved to another part of her, it seemed – this time, her entire body was shaking and trembling so much she must look like she was sitting on a bike on its way down an endless staircase. Her lips might as well be made of ice, they were so cold.

"Blast it..."

Still annoyed, but now worried as well, Paige tried to get to her feet. Again she failed miserably. In fact, she only barely managed to get to her knees before they buckled under her. Cursing lightly some more – while thinking of something more appropriate to say or do – she sat down and bent forward to ease her dizziness. Really, with her anemia, what would become of her?

Then, through the sound of the light rain, she heard something else. Faster than she thought possible in her current state, her head whirled around.

Sephiroth landed in front of her.

Sephiroth _landed _in front of her on the sand.

_Landed._

Sephiroth had been in the air, and had slowly landed (too slowly for it to have been some sort of jump) on the riverbank next to her.

His silver hair was dark with rain, and his black gym clothes couldn't be much drier. He looked at her with something akin to disbelief, or perhaps even disappointment. Paige tried scowling, but her face was so physically cold it hurt, so she didn't. To him she probably looked as expressionless as usual. That aside, though, she could have sworn the elf-man-who-was-not-an-elf-but-currently-her-teacher had levitated right above the ground before landing. Was the cold getting to her? No – she was so sure she'd seen him fly. Just like that guy on the news, the flying London man.

"Paige," he said as he came closer, and she did the only thing she was able to do – she bent away from him a little when he came too close.

He wouldn't have that, though. He took hold of her upper arms and pulled her to her feet, and after checking if she could stand on her own (which she couldn't), he stooped a little and hoisted her up until her feet no longer touched the sand.

Bridal style.

If somebody were to see them like this, she would be done for in so many ways. Her pride would be forever banished, exiled in a land of no return.

"Who would have thought... Apart from being cold, you seem unhurt," Sephiroth said as he stared walking, a little hurriedly.

"Who'd have thought you- you can fly," she retorted, and he stopped in is tracks.

"...Fly? In your condition, should you really leap to conclusions like that? Beware, or you will make a fool of yourself and regret it later," he retorted, starting to walk again. Then he broke into a run.

Really, all Sephiroth could do was make her feel inferior, faulty and clueless.

* * *

And so, she ended up in the doctor's office. He took some tests and said he'd get back to her. She also became the gossip stock of the entire school. To add to that, her parents found out everything. By the end of the week she felt her ears would fall off because they called her so much. Even John Smoth ("Keep walkin' and ya can't get far, wherever you are!") was against her. And Solomon was on her back like never before, apologizing again and again, looking more honest and broken each time even when she said it was her own fault. _She _was the one who hadn't paid attention, and now _she _was the one who had to pay for it. Bottom line: her fault.

But one thing still overshadowed all the others: She was absolutely _certain _that when Sephiroth had found her by the river, she had seen him hover above the ground for a second.

Yet he refused. Each time she asked him about it, he refused swiftly with so much sense and logic she thoroughly doubted her memory. And really, when she heard herself ask about it, she sounded like a fool. So she stopped.

* * *

**R.R.**

John Smoth says you're his ladies and he's your man.


	12. School Princess, Solomon and Bad News

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

The Resistance by Muse hath mercilessly seized me (grammar?!)! As have your reviews! You've successfully turned me into a melting cheese, or even better, a swelling marshmallow (if you haven't tried putting marshmallows in the microwave, I implore you to do so right now – then you'll see how I feel)

**Uh, I've planned to use the _Avalanche _crew as cast in this story too **(no matter what you say!)**, but this is an AU **(another universe/our universe)** fanfic, so that doesn't mean they're going to be Sephiroth's enemies... Unless you furiously demand them to be...**

* * *

School Princess, Solomon and Bad News

* * *

Sephiroth was almost certain now that Shinra had lost track of him.

This, he believed, was thanks to his trip to London a while back, after which he had taken out a number of _remnants _on his way back_. _After all, just as the remnants could sense him, he could sense them. The only problem was that since they were weak compared to himself, it was much harder for him to pinpoint their presences than it was for them to trace his. Nevertheless, he had taken out every single remnant he found. And in case there were remnants left that had passed his notice, he spent his weekends – as well as weekdays after work – flying as far away as possible. That way, if there were remnants left who tried to trace him, they would go off track, or in circles, even. It was slightly tiring, but not nearly enough to faze him.

But it was bothersome nonetheless.

And now, in addition to Shinra, another rather meddlesome person was hounding him.

_Paige._

She had caught the briefest of glimpses of him flying on the day of their field trip. Truth be told, he had been so perplexed at finding her completely unharmed that he had hesitated before landing at the riverside on which she huddled. After that, despite his attempts to convince her he hadn't been flying, she did not relent.

Speaking of Paige...

Ever since the the dancing lessons at her school – no, before that, perhaps ever since the incident with the bed sheets – she had assumed a remarkably cold mask every time she was around him. At most, her face changed from looking like that of a statue to that of an ice sculpture. Recently, after having seen him fly (if only for a split second) she had reinforced that mask and looked colder than ever before.

An air of distrust hovered about her whenever Sephiroth was close.

He wanted it to be gone. Her facade must be crushed.

He would take it upon himself to vanquish it.

* * *

Lately, Sephiroth had been sending her dark, angry, malicious and dissatisfied glances of elfish fire.

The glares were so strong her very soul trembled – all the more reason to maintain her guard to the utmost of her ability.

At the moment she was making breakfast, her senses dulled by the tiredness of the particularly cold, early autumn morning. It was so cold outside it was a wonder it hadn't started snowing yet. Then, briefly, the air behind her shifted. Even though she had the door to the small entrance hall within her view, and despite the fact that she hadn't seen anyone pass through it, she knew with certainty that Sephiroth was standing right behind her. For a moment she half expected him to attack her or attempt to scare her with a low rumble of a whisper, so she stood stiff, waiting.

"Children of the sun, watch out, he's comin' for ya," said John Smoth. Somehow, the parrot made her immensely relieved. At least she had _one _ally.

"...Turn around," Sephiroth ordered, his dark, velvety voice peeling off her layers of defence. She spent some long seconds before she managed to build it up again. Then she slowly turned around. Coldly, through half shut eyes and with a guarded face, she looked him in the face.

"Will you tell me what it takes..." he started, studying he so intently she almost looked away. "... to rid your face of that mask you keep so stubbornly?"

And his voice was so dark – so tinged with demand, with no room for denial – that Paige felt like he was stabbing her. Clenching her teeth, she kept her face unmoving. That was the only thing she knew how to do against him. And now he asked her how he could remove it? At his will?

His face changed then, and her insides went cold. From nowhere, a shadow came over his eyes and he looked down at her with the air of one who wishes harm. Deep dissatisfaction tainted his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned down as Paige continued to avoid answering him. Her breakfast was definitely long forgotten. Nonetheless, this malicious face was something she had seen on his face before, and so she found she could resist it, if only for a little-bitty, itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny moment.

"I'm not talking," she said defiantly.

_Oh, _how brave she felt.

And _oh, _how utterly foolish she was to speak those words.

Soon, either enraged with her defiance or amused to no ends by it, his face broke in a heavy, wolfish grin. Even though his mouth was still closed, his vivid expression seemed to her to speak of all that was in his mind, perhaps also of things he had suffered before and that he had somehow overcome. In his face she saw defiance and strength that went so far beyond her own that she felt powerless. Drained, she stepped back until she hit the edge of the kitchen counter. Sephiroth's eyes were bathed in even darker shadows as his frown deepened, and he leaned forward, grin still intact. Without stepping closer, he placed one hand on each side of her. Their faces were only inches apart. Paige felt his calm, cool breath on her face and struggled not to swallow.

By now, her expression was only a shell – underneath she was scared witless. That, she would admit anytime.

But even if she was afraid, that didn't have to mean she had to show it on her face.

"I'll show you nothing of what I feel," she said, cowering before him. Although her face didn't show any expression, she was short on breath. Towering in front of her, over her, Sephiroth seemed so invulnerable – like nobody could deny him what he wanted. Yet she desperately tried to hold her ground, staying quiet and still.

"Why?" he demanded, his grin gradually fading. Although he didn't move closer, with just a slight flicker of his eyes he seemed to drill through her blue eyes and into her mind. She couldn't stand it – his gaze was so strong she averted her eyes.

_Because you already know how I feel and what I feel._ Fear, dread, terror, but also anger – a furiously unrelenting wish to _resist_ him.

The pure and raw dread went to the depths of her heart. Yet, filtering through her fear, an undeniable excitement surfaced – excitement that she could stand her ground in his presence. And more hidden than those emotions ran something else, something that was wider and deeper and more profound even than her dislike for the way Sephiroth treated her.

"Because it's my only defence against you."

Slowly Paige placed her hands on both his arms and tried to push them away. Once she realized that it was literally impossible (and also that his arms were like rock and could crush her like she was an insect made of particularly fragile porcelain) she gingerly moved her arms away, flustered.

"Aaand I'm totally gonna faint in your arms if you don't move." That seemed like a good enough excuse. She couldn't keep her voice as straight as her face, though. It was more of a whisper, and betrayed some of her fear.

Something flickered in his eyes, and he slowly moved away. For a brief moment it was as if the things Paige had just said were too human for him to spend time on. She wasn't worth it.

Nonetheless, she breathed with immense relief as he turned away.

"Close call," said John Smoth, squawking very quietly as he watched Sephiroth leave the room. "Whadda beautiful day ta be free," he added – one of his many favorite lines. Sometimes she could have sworn the bird was more intelligent than he let on. How old was he? Macaws could get really old. The bird was at least as old as Paige – he'd been around since before she was born, according to her mother.

* * *

The week passed without anything extremely special happening. The only thing that changed from day to day was the tension between Paige and Sephiroth. Every time they were in the same room she found herself furiously wishing to throw herself behind the closest piece of furniture to take cover.

On Friday, after the last lessons were over, Paige only had to deliver an essay she had written before she went home. Tiredly walking up the stairs in the main building, towards the teachers' working rooms, she almost walked into another student. When she looked up, she inwardly shouted a string of profanities she would never otherwise have dreamed of uttering in anybody's presence.

The school princess.

Standing before her (or actually above her, as Paige still had one step to go of the stairs), the woman peered down, her light golden tan skin catching the sunlight that fell through the window behind her. Paige almost wrinkled her nose. The school princess' flowing, auburn hair had a halo-like shine about it thanks to the sun at her back, but it wasn't strong enough to leave her face in the shade. She had obviously put on some lip gloss recently, because her lips shimmered. Above her eyes lay a slightly darker layer of eye shadow, and her eyelashes were thick with mascara. Honey eyes glowed warmly – deceptively – down at Paige. Her wavy hair was almost as long as Sephiroth's, Paige noted with slight annoyance. She was wearing high-heeled, short boots and black jeans. About her shoulders a scarlet red knitted cardigan hung loosely. Her wrists were adorned with a small, golden watch, several thin bracelets and other fashionable accessories that Paige wouldn't know how to wear, and her neck and her ears were dressed with a thin golden bracelet and jade gems.

Paige couldn't resist.

"Your honor," she said and gave a mock bow.

"Paige," said the princess, her sweet, glassy voice sounding fragile and strong at the same time. Nothing compared to Sephiroth, though.

And then, to Paige's horror, Sephiroth appeared behind the school princess and stopped not too far away. The princess didn't see him.

"You need to stop this, Paige. Solomon's suffering, and it's your fault." A sudden pang of guilt distracted her. She already knew Solomon was feeling bad about having pushed her on the field trip, but she was alive and all right. And she didn't blame him. It wasn't even his fault. Paige was the one who had tripped over the edge.

"You've told me again and again to stay away from him, and... I've tried. Now it seems to me like you want the opposite...?" Paige questioned, her face guarded. The school princess wanted her to approach Solomon and beg for forgiveness? If she did, Solomon would never again leave her in peace.

A dark flash of anger crossed the princess' face.

"Just _apologize! _Then simply stay away," she demanded, her eyebrows curving so dramatically Paige was distracted for a moment.

She didn't really have anything to apologize for – except having tried to stay away from Solomon. But she didn't want a long discussion to ensue.

"Ok, I will. I'll deliver this essay to the teacher first, though," she said.

And as she stepped up – the final step of the staircase – it seemed as if the school princess was about to shove her. Instinctively Paige stepped back, careful not to stumble. That would be stupid and extremely embarrassing, and nobody would ever let her forget it.

"_Sierra!_" she exclaimed, surprising herself. "...Sorry. Sierra, meet... our P.E. teacher," said Paige, carefully avoiding to speak Sephiroth's name. Sierra, the school princess, turned abruptly and covered her surprise with a slightly superior look. For half a second Paige entertained the thought of Sierra turning around to see _nobody at all –_ that would be a brag-worthy thing for Paige, had it happened. Alas, Sephiroth was still standing there.

"And Phys. Ed. teacher, this is... Sierra," she said. The main hall on the floor below was full of students, and it was a little noisy, so she added something under her breath – too low for Sierra to hear; "And her surname's Nevada, 'cause she's so high and mighty." It was a very common, not so good joke that was often passed between the few who didn't like Sierra too much. Sephiroth arched an eyebrow.

"... Did you just... say something?" Sierra asked, suspicious.

"No," Paige said monotonously, once more walking up a step to pass Sierra.

"Wait! ...Solomon – he's down there. Go apologize-"

And so, Sierra gave Paige a shove that was just a little bit too forceful – caused by Sierra's annoyance, obviously. Perhaps she would try to feign innocence later; _"It wasn't my fault – I didn't do it on purpose! It was an accident!"_ At that thought, Paige almost let her face break into a furious mask. But Sephiroth was there, so she closed her face completely. It must look amusing – she was falling backwards and, as she did, she was displaying utter disinterest.

The first pain came when she landed on her back – or rather, her backpack. Then the pain continued up her neck as she rolled down the stairs, her eyes clenched shut and her arms in front of her.

Then, all too soon, her fall was stopped by something soft and warm and safe and bone-chillingly terrifying.

Solomon.

She knew it even before she opened her eyes. When she hit him, he had given a short, muffled "Auff-". That was enough for her to recognize his voice. His arms were around her, and for the first time in history he was embracing her. She was imprisoned in his arms. Knowing that her fear no doubt broke through any barrier she had built, she clasped her face with her hands and held her breath – horrified that she might catch a whiff of Solomon's scent and remember it later. Through it all, though, she knew that this fear was different from the fear she had of Sephiroth – it didn't stick in the depths of her heart, but in the marrow of her bones.

Nothing reached her senses at all. There was no sound and she didn't want to open her eyes. She refused to breathe in his smell, and she desperately tried to will away the feeling of his touch as he carefully unwound his arms from around her.

"...Paige?" Solomon said, his voice soft, yet breaking the silence like a blade.

She didn't answer. To her horror, she was trembling furiously.

"Paige?" he asked again, worry breaking through the softness. At the same time, Paige tried to dispel her own shock by mentally thanking her backpack for existing. Without it, she would currently be nestled much closer to Solomon's chest than she could physically (or mentally) handle.

Paige cleared her voice and summoned a mental image of Sephiroth. Thanks to that, she managed to close her face, and slowly removed her hands from her eyes.

"I'm fine. Thanks." She felt Solomon sigh with relief.

Before she knew it, she was on her feet in front of him. They were halfway down the stairs, and Solomon was on his knees before her. This startled her, and she stepped down next to him – there was no reason to look _down _on him – that sort of thing would make her feel like Sierra. Reluctantly, she looked up to the school princess. Sierra looked shocked, in a surprisingly regretful way. With a stab Paige realized that if Solomon had seen Sierra _pushing_ her, he might avoid Sierra and blame her for who knew how long. As a result, he could end up following Paige even more than he already did.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Paige, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I just-" Sierra stuttered, hurrying down to where they stood. She was either being honest or putting on a flawless show to protect her reputation. Perhaps a mix of both.

"It's okay, no harm done. Solomon helped me," Paige said, looking at Sierra while trying not to see Solomon in her peripheral vision. He had gone very still. When Paige glanced up the stairs, Sephiroth was gone.

Why was he gone …?

"Are you sure?" Sierra asked.

"Huh? Yeah. Anyway," Paige started, forcing herself to turn to Solomon. "Thanks for catching me." Her face was guarded, but she made sure she didn't look indifferent – if she did, she'd look like she didn't care the least about him. To tell the truth, she had never _disliked_ Solomon, despite what she might have said about him to Sephiroth. But she _did _fear him. His kindness, his affection, his tenderly spoken words and the genuine feelings behind them... These were things she didn't know how to deal with.

"No problem. I'm glad you're all right," he said, giving a careful smile.

"One more thing. About the field trip-" Here, Solomon's face twisted very briefly with pain and regret, then he looked at her, his anxious expression and piercing blue eyes throwing chains around her and holding her fast. Paige tried to see through him, and to let her eyes blur, but it was practically impossible.

"Really, I'm fine. It was my fault. I started it. I pushed you away and you pushed back, and the others joined. Besides, even after you pushed me, _I _was the one who made a fool of myself and stepped back over the edge, into thin air."

A silence followed. Solomon stared at her, his blond hair and his shirt ruffled after stopping Paige's fall. He didn't seem to know what to say – if what Paige said was good or bad for him. Was he, perhaps, thinking about refusing that it was her fault?

"If you feel guilty about pushing me, there's no need. I'm alive and well," Paige said. To make up for the dramatic words she was using, her face was turning more stoic by the second. "And I'm sorry for making you feel guilty," she added.

This time Solomon frowned, his dangerously clear, sky blue eyes piercing hers. Sierra, feeling ignored, looked between the two of them with exaggerated intensity, her auburn, wavy hair flowing over her shoulders.

"Paige!" Solomon exclaimed, grabbing her shoulders. "There's no reason at all for you to apologize! _I'm _the one who should say I'm sorry!" he claimed, his voice quiet, yet unbearably intense. Paige didn't even hear what he was saying. She was about to pee in her pants with fear – he might be holding her shoulders gently, but it was his _gentleness_ that shook her. What possessed him to be gentle towards _her?_

Feeling very uneasy, she touched one of his wrists to pry him off. Solomon realized, however, and let go. He looked like he was about to apologize again.

"You've already told me you're sorry. Every week, at least once a day, sometimes many times each lesson, ever since the field trip." To take some seriousness away from her words Paige risked a tiny, little smirk. To her surprise, Solomon blushed. Curiosity blasted through his initial confusion and he smiled back. In turn, Paige stepped away and was suddenly in an extreme hurry. Perhaps that smirk was a move she shouldn't have made. With fear fuelling her, she gravely and stoically waved her hand and muttered her goodbyes while storming up the stairs to deliver her essay.

* * *

The moment she got home, relief washed through her. She walked into the living room feeling so serene that John Smoth said "You ma' lady, I'm ya' man!" When she saw that Sephiroth wasn't there, she allowed herself a rare, healthy grin.

Then the house phone sounded. Momentarily disturbed, Paige walked over to the kitchen isle and answered the call.

"Hello?" she said.  
"Paige?" said the other person.

"...Hey, mum! Is something the matter?" Paige narrowed her eyes in suspicion.  
"Um, well, I was thinking... This weekend..."

This... weekend? Oh no. No. Please, no. Not now, when she had finally grasped the meaning of peace and freedom and wellbeing for the first time in so long...

"_Mum,_ I-"  
"Can you look after Bell?"

...Huh? False _family visit_ alarm?

"Only Bell? ...Why?" Paige asked, genuinely curious.  
"Well, Aaron is working and Benjamin is on a school trip, and I just got called in by some people at work. I can't decline. Bell can't be home alone..."

"What about kindergarten, or daycare? Or neighbours?" Not that Paige complained that Bell was coming over. It was much better than the whole family visiting.  
"Ah, the kindergarten is closed because some of the employees have the flu, and I think the same is the case with the daycare... All our neighbours are either working or not home."

"...Okay. Ship Bell here, then."

Bell was all right. She was the cutest, most innocent little girl in the world. Nothing could go wrong.

* * *

About two hours later, she heard the sound of a familiar vehicle and hurried outside. Sephiroth still wasn't back. He was sometimes gone during the weekends, though.

Driving up the old road to Paige's tiny house, a motorbike with two people on it slowly approached. Sitting in front – with a helmet that was much too big – little Bell sat safely, her pink clothes barely visible underneath her balloon-like winter jacket. In her arms Paige spotted a doll. Behind her, a man with spiky blond hair sat. Obviously he hadn't trusted Bell to sit behind him and hold on, so she sat safely in front of him, with his arms as security. To add to that, he had probably let her borrow his helmet, because he wasn't wearing any.

When he came close enough he pulled up and turned off the engine of his monstrous bike. With surprising ease, he removed Bell's helmet and let her down to the ground. She smiled up at him, her chocolate eyes warm and her brown hair messy. The blond man gave her the smallest of smiles, then turned to Paige.

"Thanks for driving Bell here," Paige said, uncertain what else to say. She didn't know this guy at all, except that he and his friends lived in the area, and that her mother knew them better than her, despite the fact that her mother was older. She knew that one of this guy's friends was the town doctor, though: The one named Cid, who wasn't afraid to let people know how much he hated his work (which, according to himself, was a job that suited his woman a lot better than him). Paige knew Cid was a pilot, though.

But what was this guy's name, again? The one with the huge motorcycle?

"Hope she wasn't any trouble," Paige said, knowing her little sister wouldn't harm anyone in the world.  
"...She wasn't," he said.

An uncomfortable silence ensued – the sort of silence that sometimes occurs when two not-so-chatty persons are in the same place, and nobody else is there to give them something to talk about. Surprisingly, he was the one who spoke first.

"You... If you're planning to be outside today, be careful," he said, almost mumbling, turning to look at the forest behind her small house.  
"Huh? Why?"

He turned and gave her a measuring look.

"...Haven't you watched the news?" he asked quietly.

The news...?

"No... But... I'll have a look later, promise," she said, giving an affirmative nod.

And then yet another, longer silence ensued.

"Bye, Cloud!" said Bell suddenly, her light, happy voice fluttering to their ears like butterflies and sparkles and rainbows and starlight. Paige couldn't help it – it had been too long since she'd heard Bell's voice – she instantaneously melted inside and smiled warmly at the joyful little girl. The grin was pasted on her face and she found it near impossible to stop smiling.

"... Bye," said the man (who was named Cloud, if Bell was correct), smiling also.

Then, with minor difficulties, he turned his monstrous motorcycle and left.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent with Bell. From the minute Cloud left, Paige smiled and laughed so much her face hurt. They made brownies, Paige watched Bell play with her doll (a baby doll this time, and not a porcelain lookalike), they engaged in witty conversation with John Smoth ("Hold my purse!" he repeated, over and over again), and went outside to bask in the late autumn sun. There, they soon found out it was impossible to walk around in the garden because the grass (and the bushes and the other mysterious plants) was too tall. As such, Paige instructed Bell to walk behind her while she mowed the grass. Like usual, mowing the mess that was the garden growth took furious effort and strength. To add to it, Bell was laughing so merrily at Paige's efforts that Paige laughed too, and became short on breath in no time at all. It was oddly cold outside, though, so before long their noses turned red. This, Bell found particularly funny.

Before it got too dark and cold outside, they went back in and Paige made them warm chocolate. Bell's delight was just about to make Paige's face break into yet another embarrassingly large, warm smile, but she stopped short when she heard the main door open and close.

Sephiroth came inside, pausing only briefly when he saw Bell, and sat down in the three-seat sofa. Bell and Paige, who sat in the two-seat one, looked at him questioningly. Bell picked up one of Paige's hands.

"...You're late," stated Paige, her face serious. Bell found this hilarious for some reason, and laughed out loud. Paige clenched her teeth to keep herself from smiling also.  
"Because of Shinra," said Sephiroth. "Have you not watched the news?"

Again the news. She still hadn't checked them.  
"No. Why?" she asked. Sephiroth's jade eyes flickered to Bell, as if speculating whether or not she was old enough to hear.

"... Shinra has unleashed beasts in different places all over the world."

Huh...?

"Beasts? You mean, lions or bears...?" she inquired incredulously. He sighed impatiently and shook his head, then turned on the television. Before long he found a news channel with pictures that were so real, and that came from so many different sources, that they couldn't possibly be fake.

Paige covered Bell's eyes. Her little sister didn't protest, humming a song happily, unknowingly. Personally, Paige had felt better. She honestly, truly couldn't believe the truth of what she was seeing. It had to be a trick. Pictures, both still and moving ones, shuffled on and off the screen. There were muscular, bear-like creatures without fur, and with wrong colors, and other, smaller ones with disproportionate tusks and things growing out of their backs, and even smaller things that flew or hovered without wings, and pictures of great shadows or silhouettes right below the surface of lakes and seas, as well as a number of mutated creatures with many heads and even more wings. They were all over the world, to boot, and even that was a fact that was hard to comprehend. According to reports, most of them were easy to kill – except the large, bulky ones – but once killed, the beasts vanished into thin air. Not even a skeleton remained. In the background, a reporter was talking fast about measures that were to be taken. Apparently, a temporary right to keep and use weapons against the beasts was being negotiated.

John Smoth squawked. "Hold my purse!" he screeched as he flew from his wooden T-stand to the top of the shelf behind him and rustled his feathers. "Shinra!" he repeated in between different bird noises and hip-hop slang words.

Most of the monsters were apparently in America. If Sephiroth was right about Shinra being behind this, did they have a vague idea where he was? Were they trying to force him to come out? Or tempt him with powerful monsters or something? In any case, she wasn't feeling very well about this at all. She was already clutching Bell, thinking that tomorrow, they would definitely stay inside, and not go outdoors.

"Um, Sephiroth, mind telling me more about this whole thing?"

* * *

**R.R.**

I've been planning to write and upload this chapter every day for five days now, but time hasn't been on my side... Sorry! I struggled for a bit to make Solomon likeable. Thanks an enormous bunch for your awesome reviews!


	13. Heads Up

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

_Warning: _Some bad language this time.  
_Warning 2: _Your reviews make me dangerously happy.

* * *

Heads-Up

* * *

"Can you tell me more about these... beasts?"

Sephiroth observed Paige quietly – how she covered her little sister's eyes with a hand, how the corners of her mouth twitched every time the younger girl laughed or giggled, and how her pale hair and bob-cut forelocks framed her icy eyes.

"It's nothing that I cannot handle," he stated. Paige frowned, for the first time in weeks – or was it months? Whichever was the case, his eyes fixed on her face, scrutinizing her.

"_You _can handle it, yeah. I don't doubt that. But what about all the others?"

He watched expectantly as her frown deepened.

"Who are you, if... if Shinra wants you so badly?" And just when he thought she was about to narrow her eyes in suspicion, her face evened and settled into her usual mask, as if nothing had happened. She glanced briefly between the television and himself, and he looked away, taking upon his face a similar expression to hers.

"...Do you recall that I called myself a General? That can hardly have changed since then."

Suddenly, Paige jumped to her feet and grabbed the remote control from the dark wooden table, then quickly turned off the TV before Bell could see the creatures on the news. Sephiroth arched a brow at the unexpectedness of her move, and found himself watching her more closely. Now that Bell could see again, the little, pink-clad girl huddled a little closer to Paige, keeping one of her large, brown eyes on Sephiroth. When he looked back – as he might look at any other person, no matter which age – she hid her face completely in Paige's large, light blue shirt.

"So Shinra wants you to show yourself?" she tried.

"... I have something of theirs," he said, a lopsided grin slowly making its way to his face. At that, Paige quickly looked away.

Sephiroth had the Black Materia.

A small, yet very audible grumbling sound interrupted them, and he and Paige turned to Bell, who flushed furiously and clutched her stomach.

"Paige," she said nervously, patting her rumbling stomach.  
"... Yes?" ... Somehow, Sephiroth found that Paige's voice was noticeably different compared to when she talked with him.

"Paige, did you hear? I have a frog in my stomach!"

Paige stiffened, and Sephiroth's eyes snapped to see her reaction.

Her entire body was tense, and before long she was trembling violently, her mouth a stiff line on her currently overly strained face. She wasn't breathing. In other words, she was trying not to laugh – a very amusing scene, indeed. Sephiroth smirked expectantly.

After some long seconds, Paige took a deep breath, her face still the same.

Then Bell's stomach rumbled again, and Paige's face grew even more entertaining. She now looked constipated. Bell looked at her with worry and her stomach complained once more – this was more than Paige could handle. She turned around so that she faced away from them. Her shoulders trembled as she let out choked laughter. As much as Sephiroth would like to see the (no doubt constipated-looking) expression on her face, Sephiroth turned his attention to Paige's little sister instead. This small person seemed to be able to break Paige's facade quite easily. Maybe he could pay attention to them for a short while. Some days to-and-fro didn't matter much when it came to Shinra and their literally fiendish activities.

Sephiroth recalled how _he _had first broken Paige's mask. He'd had a fever, which led to a situation that eventually ended when he and Paige fell into the bed sheets she was trying to organize. Back then, terror was written all over her face. How could he get her to show other things? How could he get her to permanently rid herself of the mask she kept?

"Paige?" Bell asked, her voice small and light.

Sephiroth frowned. Bell's method was different – she broke Paige's facade unknowingly, not on purpose – with small acts, or simply childish innocence. The latter was not something Sephiroth would ever try. If he stuck around, though, he might see some new sides of Paige, whether she wanted to or not.

* * *

The next day – Saturday – was spent inside, since Paige feared monsters were hanging around. Although only a few thousand were spotted, spread all over the world, and despite the fact that most of them were already killed or trapped, she didn't take any chances. Nobody had been killed yet, but she definitely didn't want Bell to become the first.

"Paige," said Bell, her like voice ringing softly. Paige turned to her, almost smiling, although her mouth was full of the cereals she had for breakfast. "Mum says you mustn't eat milk, or drink milk."  
She was right, of course. Paige kept herself from frowning mildly. "I may have anemia, Bell, but I'm a milk-aholic. There's no helping it. Don't worry, though. As long as I eat iron supplement medicine I'll be all right."

Bell looked at her with big, chocolate eyes, framed by long eyelashes. Her brown hair was a little wavy, but not as messy as the day before.

"But milk is baby food," she claimed, holding her pink-clad baby doll tight. "Babies drink milk."

"Heh, I see," said Paige, smiling. But she really _should _cut down on her milk drinking, or the iron supplement medicine would stop working right.

After breakfast Bell took her doll with her to the two-seat sofa and started playing by herself, muttering words in different voices, her expression changing often. She didn't seem to mind Sephiroth anymore, although he was watching the news. Paige sat on one of the stools by the small kitchen isle, a glass of milk in her hand. She had, of course, found it _after _Bell left the table. Trying hard not to smile when Bell said, "Hold my purse," and John Smoth copied her, Paige turned away. Keeping her mask up was impossible with Bell around.

"...Paige?" asked Bell, dragging out the word a little. Paige turned to look at her, hiding the glass of milk behind her arm.

Bell turned slowly to Sephiroth, then back to Paige. Then she glanced quickly at Sephiroth again and turned to Paige once more, smiling curiously, her eyes big and warm. This time, though, Paige didn't feel like smiling.

"What?" she asked carefully, slowly sobering up.

"Um, at home, I asked mommy how people get babies."  
"... Oh." And why did Bell say that after looking between Paige and Sephiroth?

_Uh-oh... _

Impending heart attack.

Must find escape route.

"Uh, _really? _Well, I suppose you learned a lot, then. Maybe you'll learn more once you start going to school," Paige tried, adding half a smile.  
"Mhm. Mommy said people marry first. But sometimes people get babies even if they aren't married."

"... Really?" said Paige again, stiff from head to toe. This honestly wasn't a conversation she wanted with Bell, even if Sephiroth hadn't been there.

"Will you and Sephiroth have babies?"

What?

_Say what?!_

_Babies with Se-_

Shock.

Terror.

_No._

Heart attack.

_Must remember to breathe._

...She must be displaying a very interesting expression on her face right now. By sheer luck, though, she could see that Sephiroth wasn't looking at her. He, like her, was staring at Bell. Almost murderously. She had to do something.

"No. Never. _Ever_." Her voice was a whisper, yet the words were so strong she felt a little proud they could have so much power when they came from her own mouth.

"Why?"

With an effort she didn't think was possible she could make, Paige straightened her face before Sephiroth turned to look at her.  
"... Uhh... Because it... _hurts._" She was nodding at her own words. Her brain had gone haywire.

"Why?" Bell asked, innocent curiosity beaming mercilessly from her face. She wouldn't take _"just because"_ for an answer.

"See..." started Paige, taking a deep breath and calming herself by looking at the floor for a moment. "That doesn't really matter. See, we're never going to have babies, because we don't like each other _that way,_" she explained, dangerously close to blush. Before Bell could ask 'why' again, Paige added, "Because he's my teacher, and I'm a student." Good enough excuse.

Bell didn't look like she understood it all. For a moment she seemed unable to decide what to ask. That aside, why couldn't this embarrassing conversation _end? _She had already answered embarrassing questions that included Bell's speculations about Paige, Sephiroth and impossible things (babies) that would definitely not happen in their future. She would be unable to look him in the eyes for days on end after this.

"Why don't you like each other that way?" Bell asked, and Paige mentally shuddered with a deep, seemingly innate fear when Sephiroth looked at her.

Then, her savior made an appearance:

"I've a rude thought every three seconds," interrupted John Smoth, letting out a squawky laugh at his words as he nodded up and down on his T-stand. Paige turned to him, mentally showering him with a hundred hip-hop-like quotes of eternal thankfulness.

"Ah, is that so, John Smoth," she said, throwing herself at the glimpse of an escape from the earlier debate. Her face was finally completely back under control, thanks to the bird.

And so, after a short while of awkward and practically mindless chat with the colorful macaw, Paige more or less escaped even more embarrassing and disturbing questions. Bell continued playing as if nothing had happened, smiling innocently. To Paige's extreme horror, though, she heard Bell speak her own and Sephiroth's names a few times in her game with her doll, using light and dark voices to differentiate between them. In spite of that, Paige hoped Bell's innocence would prevail, and casually interrupted every time she heard Sephiroth's name. Just in case.

* * *

Sephiroth vanished somewhere the same evening, and the next morning, Paige's mum came to pick up Bell. Paige watched (and listened) as the old family van struggled down the old road from the small house.

For the rest of the weekend she was alone, with the exception of John Smoth, who had learned a new word: Shinra. Apart from that word being repeated over and over again, only the news kept her company. The lack of Bell quickly manifested itself in her face, which was soon a replica of Mona Lisa, only without the smile.

* * *

A small week later she was at the school grounds with the other students in her grade, blinking against the bright light that reflected off the deep snow. All the 3rd year students were gathered, which was unusual. There was probably about a hundred students in total.

Sephiroth's plan was to make the students have Phys. Ed. outside, and everyone had better give it their best shot. Paige felt rather clumsy. She was dressed in thick, black pants to keep out the snow, an equally thick black jacket, a white woolen hat on top and white mittens. The others were dressed similarly, only with more colors. It was so cold outside that white plumes of breath escaped every one of them. It was still snowing very heavily and it was eerily quiet until Sephiroth spoke. He was dressed in his usual black workout pants and jacket, with only a black scarf and gloves to ward off the cold. What was with all the black clothes? Perhaps he had consciously done it to stand out from the others (and the snow, for that matter), so that everyone would be able to see him...?

"Today, we will do something out of the ordinary," Sephiroth announced. His voice made shivers go down her spine – he sounded like the one he claimed to be – a general.

_An _elfish _general, _she mentally added. Why did he have to be so elfish, anyway? mentally frowning in annoyance, she looked at the man.

"We will split into two groups. Each group will find a place fit for a base. Make solid snow walls around the area you choose."

Without questioning him (they had learned not to), they did as he said quickly. One of the bases was made by the parking lots, closest to the 'mainland'. It was forbidden to go away from the isle that was the property of the school, though. The other base was finished in the same way: As a thigh-high wall made of large snow balls. It was positioned in front of a row of old trees. The trees were willows, by the look of the snow that weighed them down – the branches and the snow on them were so heavy they touched the ground, forming several enormous, white and hut-like structures.

"Now, the girls go to the parking lot, and the boys go to the trees," ordered Sephiroth.

This time, there was a rush of hushed voices.  
"There are more girls than boys, and so it is fair this way," continued Sephiroth. The others turned quiet. He was right. The girls were many, but the boys were strong. It was a fair thing.

"I will only say this once: _Nobody_ will throw snowballs." The others turned even more quiet. The disappointment was so obvious Paige felt she could physically touch it.  
"Doing so will result in my reprimanding any such action in front of all the others." The others turned even _more_ quiet, if that was even possible.

Then he got to the point.

"The objective of this activity is to catch all the members of the other team, _and to pull them inside your base_. Once there, the captives will join the team that caught them. Also, your own bases are safe zones. You may rest there, but only if you _need_ it. The boy team will wear yellow vests. The same goes for everyone who gets caught by the boy team."

He caught the student's eyes, and Paige deliberately looked away. The baby questioning episode with Bell was still fresh in her mind.

There were more than sixty girls, and about forty boys. The girls looked extremely unwilling to do anything of what Sephiroth had just told them to do. It wouldn't even surprise Paige if they _wanted _to get caught by the boys.

"For you to take this seriously, I will join one of the teams once it has few enough members."

Eyes widened all around, and mouths opened in surprise at Sephiroth's calmly spoken words. Apart from the dancing lesson once before, he had never participated actively in the Physical Education lessons until now.

* * *

Paige had never been so serious about any P.E. lesson in her entire life. Not even once.

This was the first time she would be engaging in combat (or opponent-kidnapping) against Sephiroth – her first chance to witness some of his strength in this kind of situation. And it was time to extract revenge for the dance thing.

For this reason, it frustrated her _to no end_ when the girls simply screamed with laughter when they were caught. They didn't even put up a fight when they were pulled to the Boy Team's base. Personally, Paige had "caught back", or recaptured three of the girls already. Once they caught a whiff of her mood, though, they put in a tiny bit more effort. By now the boys' team had started eyeing her as the most dangerous enemy. They still looked at Sierra "Nevada" as the girls' _leader_, though. She was, after all, the lovely school princess. People struggled all over the place – they shuffled through deep snow, threw themselves after one another, pulled each other to their own bases and saw nothing except the snow and the students closest to them while doing so. But they weren't _serious. _Sephiroth seemed to think the same, judging from the way he stood still and observed them with an unamused expression. He looked bored, or perhaps, _maybe, _thoroughly annoyed that they didn't work harder.

Then, just as Paige was on her way over the wall of the Girl Team's base to catch her breath (and, she admitted, to get rid of the dizziness caused by her horribly irritating anemia), somebody grabbed her foot and pulled her leg. She gave a small cry as she fell over. The one holding her foot was a black-haired boy. With surprise she recognized him as one of the more fit guys in her grade. She couldn't take him on alone – not right now, at least.

"I got her! Help me out!" he shouted, his voice coarse and strong. Through the falling snow Paige saw others approaching.

She turned around to her stomach, holding onto the snow wall of her base.

"Hey! Over here!" she demanded through clenched teeth. Inside the Girl Team's base, a couple of willing team members hurriedly took hold of her arms and started pulling her over the snow wall, but by then another person had caught hold of her other ankle.

The girls on her team were losing the battle of strength. They were about to give up – to them, it wasn't that serious.

"Don't let go! Please!" Paige pleaded, to their great surprise.

... If she got caught and was pulled back to the Boys' Base, Solomon would be waiting for her. And Sephiroth would be disappointed that she let herself be caught. Or perhaps he would look down at her. She would lose before she had a chance to extract her revenge for the dance lesson.

"Please!" she repeated to the girls that held her arms, and since they were the only ones who could see her face, she showed them the most pleading expression she could muster. In her mind (to guide her expression the right way) was the image of Bell asking for something – those eyes went _beyond_ puppy eyes. She didn't know how well _her _expression worked, though.

"Oh-Okay!" said one of the girls, and with a sudden rush of determination, the two girls stood their ground and pulled Paige's arms until a few others arrived to help. Before long, after losing both her mittens, Paige was pulled into safety. The Boy Team (which by now had a few girls in it) growled.

A new freshness surged through Paige. She quickly recognized it as a mix of satisfaction and adrenaline.

And then:

"Charge!" she shouted, pointing at them cruelly, grinning without constraint. She ran first, the others following – she was sure they were gradually growing more excited and serious about this.

And so, after recapturing all the girls and quite a few of the boys, victory was almost theirs. Among the ones who still stood strong on the opposing team was Solomon. Paige admitted she had deliberately avoided him.

Soon Sephiroth would have to join as well.

"Gah!" she exclaimed as somebody crashed into her and knocked the air out of her lungs. Before long, she lay face-down in the snow and was pulled by her feet. When she struggled to get a glimpse of them, she spotted Solomon's red scarf (among the other yellow-vest-clad members of the Boy Team). Angry, she pulled and shoved and moved her legs, kicking and wrestling as much as she could. She reached forward and grabbed the closest leg she could find, and one of them plunged down into the snow when she pulled it. Paige got up, standing on one foot (as the other was still held fast by Solomon), and paused. Solomon turned and met her eyes.

Just as she wondered what to do next, and whether or not she should try to catch Solomon as well, a girl screamed loudly:

"He's coming! The teacher's coming!"

Panic and total chaos ensued, and Paige hurriedly glanced over her shoulder. Only snow and retreating shadows were visible. Then Solomon pulled her leg and she fell into the snow again, and soon she was twice as angry as before.

"Gah!" she muttered, struggling even more furiously than before. She rolled and turned and kicked and punched and fought against Solomon, until his grip momentarily weakened. Then she kicked again, this time freeing her foot.

"Whoa!" Solomon exclaimed as he fell backwards.

As Paige climbed to her feet again, all she could think about was to get the heck out of there and rest for a minute in the Girl Team's base before Sephi-

...Oh. _Oops._

_Bad._

Too late.

Paige stood still, staring ahead. In front of her, not ten paces away, stood the tall, broad-shouldered, black-clothed, elf-like, silver-haired man that was Sephiroth. He was, needless to say, standing between Paige and her base. Behind her she could hear Solomon getting up. Paige's face had momentarily frozen. Not even one of her teammates was nearby. To add to it all, Sephiroth looked like he was ready to lunge forward.

"Run!" yelled a girl from far away, and Paige woke up from her stupor.

Paige obeyed. She jerked around and dashed forward, straight past Solomon. Taking chances, she ran straight into the group that formed the Boy Team. It caused confusion – obviously they didn't think one of their opponents would run _towards _them. Maybe they even thought for a minute that she was on their team as well. Only she wasn't wearing the yellow vests that the members of the Boy Team had to wear. She ran like a cat being chased by a dog, even though Sephiroth could probably run like a cheetah on crack on a good day.

Partially obscured by the falling snow, Paige hid in the first place she found. She stood behind one of the great willow trees. It looked more like an upside-down white bowl because of all the snow. Glancing around, Paige breathed heavily, happy with her efforts so far. Perhaps she could sneak around the other trees and get back to the Girl Team's base by the parking lots unseen. Nobody was within her line of sight.

Until a spot appeared far ahead, a spot that closed in on her much faster than it should-

Before she could even move out of the way, Sephiroth crashed into her and they plunged through the snow wall of the tree she had hidden behind. As they landed under the snow-covered branches that formed a roof above and around them, dark blue shadows enveloped them. Cold snow was everywhere, and Paige wrestled, nearly paralyzed by her own beating heart.

"No," she muttered breathlessly as she felt a hand touch her arm briefly, and hoisted herself up so that she was sitting. Her back touched the trunk of the willow tree. On his knees before her, Sephiroth sat, his jade eyes burning hers with such intensity she looked away. She remembered all the things Bell had asked in his presence, and her own replies to said questions:

_"That doesn't really matter. See, we're never going to have babies, because we don't like each other_ that way_," she explained, dangerously close to blush. Before Bell could ask 'why' again, Paige added, "Because he's my teacher, and I'm a student." Good enough excuse._

Paige swallowed quietly, steeling herself and looking back at him with an even expression.

He gave half a laugh and rose his hand. Paige held her breath, not knowing what to expect, then he grabbed the hem of her jacket and hauled her to her feet. Like she was some naughty kid caught doing something wrong. Then he started pulling her along, and they left the confines of the heavy, snow-covered willow branches. Before long, they were close to the walls of the Boy Team. By then, Sephiroth had taken hold of her jacket at the back of her neck. She probably looked ridiculous.

Enraged, Paige grabbed the zipper of her warm, thick jacket and pulled it down.

Then, after quickly moving her arms out of the jacket, she ran for her life towards the Girl Team's base. Her white cotton shirt didn't shield her from the cold, but at least she was less visible in the snow. Her pants were still black and very much visible, though. And difficult to run with. In front of her, she could see and hear her own team cheering her on, their voices getting more panicky by the second. That could only mean she was being followed. Paige found that her face was very stiff, either with cold or fear, most likely both.

And then people from her own team left their base (the Girl Team's base), and ran to meet her. Paige almost slowed down, but they ran straight past her, to meet whoever had been chasing her. It caught her completely off guard. Her team did that for _her_? For a second she felt ridiculously touched, but then she realized a lot of the team members were still within the walls of the Girls' base. Besides, the ones who "ran to meet her" probably just wanted to get a shot at Sephiroth and whoever else were following her. Still, once she stumbled over the walls of her team, she allowed herself to relish in the deep satisfaction she had so longed to feel. Even if Sephiroth could have caught her (she was sure h could have), he hadn't. For a while, she would just delude herself into thinking he hadn't _managed _to catch her. That made her feel _real_ good.

* * *

Meanwhile, a certain Cid Highwind was smoking, cussing and searching for something at the same time.

"Where the heck did she put that ass-load of crap," he muttered, shuffling through the drawers in his office. How Shera had even convinced him to become a doctor in the first place was beyond his imagining. She must have said it had something to do with science, and to Cid, science was a good thing. Science had led to aircrafts, planes and airships. But how the _heck _had Shera made him choose to work as a doctor as a side job? That wasn't even directly tied to science, was it? Perhaps Shera'd mentioned something about smoking breaks. Wait – it probably had to do with the money. Had becoming a doctor been _his _idea after all, then? To pay for parts for his airship?

"There," he said, fishing up a bunch of loose papers from beneath cigars, an old glove and a screwdriver he thought he'd lost when he needed it for his airship some weeks ago.

The papers were tests. It was a terrible mess, and different files about different people were mixed. He was searching for the test results for some girl named Paige. She'd had an accident and fallen into a river a while back, and had been brought in for some tests. Among them were some blood tests. Cid hadn't looked at them properly yet.

"This crap's impossible," he mumbled after a while, then silently thanked Shera for sometimes cleaning things up for him.

Impatiently he checked the page numbers and hoped the papers were in the right order. The topmost paper was about Paige, luckily. In one of the corners he read _Page 1. _There was a loose paper beneath it. It said _Page 2_, so they most likely belonged together. Cid, calm for the moment, inhaled the smoke of his cigar and leaned against the messy counter while skimming through the two papers.

"..._Shit_," he muttered as he finished reading the blood tests and the scribbly notes below the results.

If Cid had double-checked the files properly, he might have noticed that the blood test results did not belong to Paige.  
But he didn't double-check – he was too busy swearing.

* * *

Later, after Paige found her missing mittens, hat and jacket, she went home. Her rusty bike was no good – she had left it at home since the first day it started snowing. It was in the crumbling outhouse. Paige hoped it would survive another winter. Thus, after a long walk home, her cheeks and her nose were scarlet when she finally got into the warm living room of her little house. Sephiroth was already there. Speaking of travelling, though, she couldn't understand how the other students managed to stuff themselves into that old, yellow school bus. Even with fifty seats and room for another fifty people who were standing, that only left room for one hundred people. Their school had more than three hundred students. Although it wasn't that many compared to other schools, how did they manage to stuff that many people into one bus? Why didn't they get an extra bus? Paige, lost in thought, visualized people sitting on each others' laps with their cheeks stuck to the windows, and a few other students in the luggage compartments. Like a stuffed Tokyo train, she mused, with people with sweaty armpits and others with claustrophobia. In the middle of it all, one sick person would occasionally contaminate half the bus with influenza. Paige was glad she walked to school every day, even though it took quite a while. She wasn't the only one who walked, though. A few were even driven there.

Her train of thought was disturbed as the phone started ringing.

"... Hello?"

* * *

Sephiroth watched Paige as she answered the phone.

"Huh? Why? Can't you just tell me over the phone?" she said dismissively.

"What- Hey. Don't curse at me, doctor, please." Sephiroth arched an eyebrow. Doctor?

"...Okay, I get it. I'll be there soon. Bye," she said and hung up, then looked out through the window. The only thing visible to her was falling snow and blinding whiteness, no doubt. She couldn't hold back an unwilling shiver when looked for too long.

* * *

R.R.

I won't say anything, except that I haven't forgotten that the fiends are still around...


	14. A Little Magic

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

_Yes_ for Wikipedia.  
**YEAH!** for your epic reviews of extreme awesomeness!  
… And _yes__, _Cid _did _mix up Paige's papers...

* * *

A Little Magic

* * *

The walk to the doctor's office was unbearable. Struggling every step of the way through knee-deep snow and a gradually growing storm, Paige muttered half-hearted things to encourage herself, about everything from warm chocolate and tea to jokes and quotes John Smoth had picked up from hip-hop tracks. She didn't see a single person on the road – not even a lone car – and it gave her a notion that the village was completely deserted. If it weren't for the cosy (and frustratingly warm-looking) lights in the windows here and there, she would have sworn she was lost. Only a few minutes before she got to the doctor's office she remembered the Shinra fiends that were rumored to be roaming about. At that she increased her speed.

She only knocked once on the door before it opened. The doctor, who looked rather grumpy and angry, ushered her inside while cussing at the snow and mumbling about his airship.

To her wonder, they stopped in the waiting room.

"It's tidier here," he explained, gesturing at a chair. Paige sat down willingly, her nose and cheeks no doubt redder than they had ever been before. Doctor Cid pulled out a chair for himself and sat down with some papers in his hands.

"I'll cut to the chase," he said, the constant frown on his face deep. He looked serious. Something cold moved in her gut – something else than the physical cold of the storm outside.

"After you fell in the river some time ago, you came here and took some tests, among them some blood tests." He wasn't looking at her, but seemed to be reading. At the same time he lit himself a cigar, which Paige slowly arched a brow at. "Those weren't so good. Those weren't so good at all."

Paige wanted to swallow, but didn't. She felt that if she blinked, she'd miss something.

"... You have anemia, right? Does you take iron supplement medicine?"

"Uh, yes. But it doesn't work very well, because I drink so much milk," she admitted. If her cheeks weren't already red, she would have blushed. The milk she used to drink (and eat, often with cereals) kept the iron supplement medicine from working.

Cid looked at her incredulously, his cigar bobbing up and down a little. The smoke didn't reach Paige, but she could still smell it.

"... Well, miss Paige... Whether you drink milk or not doesn't really matter. What matters is that your anemia is one of the symptoms of something more serious," Cid said, then slowly took his cigar away from his mouth and handed her his two pieces of paper. Paige didn't know where to look or read, so after skimming through the tests she looked at him warily.

"What's wrong with me, then?" she asked, too quiet for her own liking.

This time, the doctor's frown weakened and he looked weary, like he despised what he had to say. He sighed deeply, sounding almost annoyed. She guessed he was trying hard not to swear and curse at it all.

"You have leukemia."

... Say what?

Leukemia?

As in...

... blood cancer?

Paige looked at him exressionlessly.

While doctor Cid searched her face for a reaction, she blanched and tried to swallow. Her shock lasted for a second, then she turned angry. Nobody in her family had blood cancer, not even other, less serious kinds of cancer – not that she knew of. It didn't make sense. Her mind worked hard to come up with something with which she could argument against the test results, but she could find nothing.

"It's a mature T-cell leukemia. It favors your blood, bones, liver, spleen... Overall, it's dangerous. Most people..." Cid paused, scratching the back of his head. His cigar was back between his teeth.

"Most people what?" she asked, her shoulders sagging.  
But he said nothing.

"... Tell me how long I've got," she said, her voice monotonous and silent. Ten years? Or the oh-so-familiar, Hollywood rip-off _six_ months? No, more importantly, could this kind of cancer be treated?

* * *

"Shinra," said John Smoth.

Sephiroth, who had been waching the news, turned to the bird, frowning suspiciously. The bird said the word again, whistling nervously afterwards. Perhaps he had memorized the word when he heard Paige ask him about it. Sephiroth turned back to the news – apparently Shinra was busy spreading another horde of fiends all over the planet. This time there was a lot more of them. Last time it had been a few thousand at most, and they had been spread all over the world. Now there were several times more. The vast majority of them were in America. Shinra had al least found out that much, then. Had Sephiroth missed a remnant? If so, then he had to keep moving like before, in the afternoons and during the weekends, to get the remaining remnants off track again. He didn't want to be traced.

"Shinra. Got my _eye _on ya," said John Smoth, and Sephiroth's mouth twitched in annoyance.

Just then, the sound of the snow storm outside strengthened for a moment as the entrance door opened and closed. The sound of Paige almost stumbling over her own shoes carried to Sephiroth's ears and took his attention away from the news. Before long, Paige came inside the combined living room and kitchen, her cheeks red and her eyes downcast. Her shoulders were hunched – she was no doubt still cold. Rubbing her hands, she shuffled to the kitchen area and made herself some instant chocolate. She drank it without paying any heed to them.

"Ahh," she sighed when she finished drinking it, then she left the room with a somewhat vague-looking wave of her hand, and a barely audible "Goodnight."

Nothing out of the ordinary.

...Except that it was only seven o'clock.

* * *

The following days Paige seemed more distant than usual. At school she didn't shy away from Solomon, but she didn't speak with him either – at all. She ignored him completely. In the P.E. classes it was different – her efforts seemed almost desperate, as if her life was on the line. Sephiroth didn't mind – it would do her grades well. When it came to karate, she went there more than willingly. Every time she came back home from training, she was completely worn out. Not even once did she look him in the eye, and more often than not she was staring off into thin air. When he caught her doing it, she quickly covered over it by giving him annoying comments, as if nothing was wrong. A few times, mostly when he had spent a day or two flying as far away as possible from her house (to throw Shinra's remnants off track), he found her sleeping in the living room. When she sat silently and watched the news with him, or after they had eaten, she sometimes nodded off and eventually fell asleep also.

Sephiroth, however, chose not to take action. It was none of his business.

… Until one Friday.

It had been snowing all night, but as the morning sun inched its way into the sky, the clouds dispersed and left the sky blue. Everything else seemed to shimmer – white and pure and mercilessly blinding. Paige came downstairs and started finding breakfast for herself. To say the least, she was abnormally slow. She seemed ill. Absently, Sephiroth watched as she leaned against the kitchen counter for support, with her other hand on her forehead. Her hands curled into fists and when she regained herself, she angrily tore open the refrigerator door and grabbed all the milk cartons she could hold. These, she opened with great force and poured them in the sink. Then she threw the empty cartons away, mashing them as deep into the litter bin as possible.

Perhaps her anemia was acting up.

"Wait..." she said, as if to herself. "What time is it?"  
"...A quarter to eight," came his reply. She stared at him, as if waiting for him to correct himself.

"School starts at eight," she said breathlessly.

Sephiroth observed her with interest as she stormed out of the room to get on her shoes, jacket and her backpack. She did so in less than half a minute, while muttering things like: "My bike is no use... Too much snow... Can't run all the way there... Hitchhike? … No. I'll never make it. It's no use. Walking is too slow. Can I call somebody? Neighbours? … Impossible – too late..." She walked back and forth, trying to think clearly – which was obviously difficult for her at the moment.

"Would you enlighten me?" Sephiroth asked from his position in the sofa. Surely, being late for school one day could not have too significant consequences.

Paige's muttered words paused for a minute and her head appeared behind the door frame.

"I. Have. An. English. Exam. _Today._"

Sephiroth arched an eyebrow, amused.

"And I spent so much time preparing yesterday that I overslept. I have to be there in _ten minutes_." Her voice was even and quiet, but if one could kill somebody with the words _ten minutes, _Paige would be a serial killer by now.

"I see," he replied. Her eyebrow twitched a little.

"... You seem pretty unaffected and strong, all the time, Sephiroth. But this time, not even you have enough power to help me," she complained as her head disappeared from his view. "You can't stop time, after all. And you don't have a car." Her voice disappeared as she opened the entrance door and left. She hadn't talked that much for a long time. It was rather refreshing.

* * *

Once Paige was outside in the snow, which by the way reached over her knees and already melted around her ankles, she was honestly tempted to throw herself into the deep, blinding white snow and just stay there all day. What was the big deal? She had leukemia – blood cancer – and even if she decided to get treatment for it, she wouldn't live for long at all. Come to think of it, she might as well quit school and enjoy the rest of her life before her leukemia forced her to stay in bed. She wouldn't get to school in time, anyway. The only one who would notice she was gone was Solomon, probably, so it couldn't hurt to be a late... She'd explain to her parents and her siblings later. Not now, though. Not until after Christmas, or else there would be too much fuss.

"Do you want to get to school in time?" asked a manly voice behind her, and she stumbled around and backed away a little. Sephiroth was outside, too?

"Well, yes. But I'm not Superman," she said half-heartedly.

"Shall I offer you some help?"

His expression was completely and utterly unreadable. It made her unnerved.

"What? How can you help me? It's not good to give me false hope, especially not now." Paige thought of the school trip months ago, when she had thought Sephiroth was flying. Now that seemed ridiculous to even think about.

He gave a deep chuckle and smirked, and she went cold. With swift strides he walked closer to her, and she shuffled backwards in the deep snow to create some physical distance.

"Distance! Personal space!" she said, holding her arms out in front of her.

But before she knew it, he bent down and lunged forward, so his shoulder hit her stomach and knocked the air out of her. He held her in place and stood up slowly. Or so she thought, until she noticed it took longer than it should to stand up. She could only watch as the snow below seemed to fall away from her – she stared as her small house turned even smaller, until it was a spot on a snow white canvas. Gravity and pressing wind kept her in place over Sephiroth's shoulder. In a long moment of disbelief, she tried to push Sephiroth away, to wiggle out of his grip, but then she came to her senses (almost, at least).

Sephiroth was flying.

Paige was hanging over his shoulder.

They were hundreds of feet above ground.

Her life depended on whether or not she held onto Sephiroth.

And so, scared and shocked out of her mind, she waved her arms in the air, searching for something to hold on to. Soon enough she snaked one arm back around Sephiroth's neck and hoped he wouldn't get too angry about it. Then, to her terror, she started sliding down a little. Her fear intensified and she was completely overtaken by a will to survive, no matter what, so she held onto Sephiroth in all thinkable ways, eternally grateful that he couldn't see her face, and that she couldn't see his. After all, she was straddling him with all the dignity of a horrified rabbit.

* * *

Sephiroth was already starting to have second thoughts.

Flying was what he usually did to get to Paige's school and back, but indulging her in his ability might backfire. In fact it was already backfiring: Sephiroth had left the ground with Paige on his shoulder, but she was already holding onto him in all ways one human could hold onto another. It was thoroughly disturbing. Both her arms were around his neck and he felt her heart through his coat and her jacket. He heard her breathe fast, unable to even scream with fear. The worst thing, however, was that she was _straddling_ him. And she was not straddling him in the most suitable place. To add to that, every time he tried to loosen her grip, she strengthened her hold around him. She was holding onto him the same way a person without swimming abilities might hold onto a life buoy.

It shouldn't faze him. He should be able to handle it.

Yet, with Paige of all people – who at all times shied away from physical touch and protected her personal space like it was her fortress...

… Perhaps, if she had been more clingy from the start, he would have been able to ignore her just fine. But she had kept her distance from the start. To suddenly have her all over him and all around him was disturbing. The more he though about it, the faster he flew, and the faster he flew, the tighter her grip became. He didn't need to hold her in place at all – she managed that much on her own – so he eventually let his hands rest on her backpack. It gave him an illusion that all was as usual.

* * *

"We're here," she heard him say as he landed behind one of the school buildings. Paige immediately let go and fell down into the snow, then scrambled to her feet and stepped back, her breath ragged as she stared at him.

Her mask of nonchalance and disinterest was no doubt long gone.

"I. _Knew _it," she stated, pointing at him. Her pale, light brown hair was all over the place, she was sure.

Then the school bell sounded, harsh and shrill.

"I _knew_ you could fly," she managed, her voice uneven. At lack of words, she pointed at him some more, then turned and walked away unsteadily, casting glances over her shoulder until she couldn't see him anymore. In less than a minute she got to the classroom where she would be taking her English exam. If it weren't for what had just happened, her nerves would have been a problem. But now she was hardly nervous. If anything, she was furious (at herself, because she'd held onto Sephiroth so tightly) and shocked and terrified (at Sephiroth's ability to fly) but also endlessly determined to do well at the exam, since this was most likely the last time she had an English exam. And so, with the determination of a rabid pit bull protecting its territory against an army of mailmen, she got down to business.

* * *

Sephiroth glanced in through the classroom window before he returned to Paige's house. She was working with the same sort of desperateness he had witnessed in the P.E. lessons – as if this were the last thing she would do in her life.

Slightly suspicious, he remembered how long she had been acting like this. Surely, it had started after her visit to the doctor? Was something not right?

* * *

When Paige returned home and walked into the living room, she looked murderous. She kept her face calm as always, yes, but her eyes were positively evil.

"Takin' chances. Word tap dancing with wolves," said John Smoth.  
"Quiet," demanded Paige.

"Disrespect hip-hop, and I'll spit in ya' face," he retorted, and she turned and looked him in the eye for some long seconds. "My name's shutup, what's yours?" he squawked.

Slowly, Paige turned back to Sephiroth.

"You were _flying_ earlier today," she started. She ignored John Smoth as he said "I'm hot 'cause I'm fly, you ain't 'cause you not".  
Sephiroth said nothing at first.  
"In other words, you lied to me when you said you _couldn't _fly, after the school trip when I fell in the river. I saw you fly, but you denied it."

"Indeed I did. Have you the common sense to know why?" said Sephiroth.  
"To avoid troublesome questions, no doubt," she said, barely audible, her eyes narrowing. Sephiroth didn't like how she looked at him – it annoyed him thoroughly that she dared stand up to him like that.

"I am hardly the only one keeping secrets. What did the doctor tell you that was so important that you decided not to tell me, or even your family? ...Enlighten me," he retorted.

Her expression faltered completely – so much that Sephiroth checked in his mind just what he had said. For a moment he thought she wouldn't speak, and that she would leave the room without looking back. But she stood still before him, seeming almost to wilt even as he watched her.

Then she gathered herself.

"The doctor said I've got leukemia. And that I'll be dead before next school term's over," she declared, without emotion.

… There was no trace of lies in her eyes.

For a split, fleeting second, he found himself imagining how things might be if – or when – she died: This house would be completely empty. She would never shuffle downstairs in the morning to eat breakfast and go to school, and she would never make them meals or ask him questions about Shinra which he would refuse to answer in detail. That John Smoth would no doubt be taken back to the rest of her family, who might not return here because they wouldn't be able to cope with the memory of her death. At her school, he knew of at least one person who would be utterly broken at the news. Not only Solomon – this place was but a tiny village, at most a collection of small hamlets spread by the foot of the mountains – but the people who lived there would no doubt know who Paige was, and they would mourn her.

As one second passed, he pushed away those thoughts only to be overcome by a strange coldness. He found that he was no longer bothered or annoyed by the tone in her voice, as he had been only a minute before.

"Dead, you say," he muttered. He wasn't looking at her.

There came no reply.

Perhaps she regretted telling him.

"… Before I forget to tell you, I'm planning to spend Christmas with my family. You're free to join." Her voice was quiet and even. Downcast.

"No. I will not join," he retorted. His decision was already final.

"Very well... I'll leave you here with John Smoth then, if that's okay."

And with that final whisper of a sentence, their conversation came to an end. Paige slipped into the shell and the mask that were her only means of protection, then left the room without a sound.

… _Leukemia._

Even if he did not speak the word aloud, it disgusted him – it made his throat tighten and turned the air in his lungs heavy.

* * *

Less than a week after that, a few days before Christmas, Paige was ready to go to her family. Sephiroth arrived just about when she left the house, as he had spent some time taking care of Shinra's fiends – and even a remnant, this time. He landed outside, in front of Paige in the snow, which shimmered faintly in the light from the windows. She was dressed in her black, thick duvet jacket, boots and gray jeans, and as he landed, she looked up, startled.

"... Been hunting?" she asked, slightly annoyed, trying to regaining her composure.

"Indeed I have," he replied, observing her closely as she looked down, her annoyance already gone.  
"But how?" she asked. "How can you do that without your sword?"

_Ah._

His Masamune. He hadn't seen it since summer. Every time he fought fiends and monsters of Shinra's, he thought of it. Every time news came up that might be related to Shinra, he wished he was holding the sword, so that he might cleave those who dared come for him. But he had to hand it to Paige – she had hidden it well. He still remembered the reason she had done so: She would let him stay until he was healed, but in return she would hide his sword. After all, if she was the only person who knew of its whereabouts, he couldn't kill her.

Musing about the whereabouts of his Masamune, he looked her in the eye. From where he stood she appeared sad, almost depressed.

… She hadn't done anything that had brought him too much trouble yet.

Why would she do so now? She'd had plenty of time.

It couldn't hurt to anser her question.

"Like this," he said, holding one hand up beside him. She watched, bewildered.

His hand slowly started glowing green as the materia in it woke to life. It was a Fire materia, as Paige soon discovered as a small flame appeared over his open, gloved hand. She stared in disbelief, then awe, as Sephiroth let the flickering plume grow. He found that he quite liked her reaction, and so he increased the magical force so that the fire grew even more – until it was almost half his size.

"Whoa," uttered Paige, holding a hand in front of her face as a shield against the heat. Sephiroth let the flame die as while watching it, then glanced at Paige, who was still looking at his open hand.

Smirking, and asking himself why he hadn't tried something like this before to get entertaining faces out of her, he continued with another spell: Bio, a poisonous spell. As green sludge and large, green bubbles erupted from his hand, Paige looked thoroughly disgusted – yet she absolutely couldn't look away. As soon as the spell stopped, Sephiroth's hand was clean, and he attempted a Lightning spell. The flash took Paige by surprise and she nearly jumped back, this time looking him in the face.

"_Care_ful! That's-"

Ignoring her, he quickly exchanged his current materias with others, and Paige's face turned dangerously blank for a moment as she watched the small, glass-like orbs – materias – dive into his palm.

"Two more," he said, and raised his hand, then motioned towards the ground with it. Several massive, sharp blocks of ice erupted from the ground. In sync with the movements of Sephiroth's hand, the blocks grew until they towered above him, but then he stopped moving and let his arm rest at his side. After a few long seconds, the ice shattered. Paige didn't budge – but although her mouth was still shut, her eyes were bulging as she watched the spot where the ice had been. Then Sephiroth reached out and pointed at her, which immediately caught her attention.

"Erh, Se-Sephiroth?" she asked, alarmed. He gave a lopsided smirk.

"No need to worry," he said, then he let a wave of emerald green energy surge from his arm and through the air towards Paige. She hunched her shoulders and held up both her arms for protection like before – her eyes shut tight – and the spell hit her. It pulsed through her in a second, glimmering and twinkling, and then it was over. A few seconds passed before Paige opened her eyes and moved her limbs rather carefully, as if to check if they were intact.

The spell he had used was Cure.

"If... If that was meant to calm me down, you did a bad job," she said through gritted teeth, looking away. He chuckled quietly at that comment.

But she was smiling.

For some time they stood still, neither of them taking it upon themselves to break the silence. Sephiroth only moved when he heard the sound of an engine get closer – no doubt Paige's father or mother was here to pick her up. Sephiroth glanced down the snowy road, then looked back at Paige before he slowly walked past her.

"Merry Christmas," sounded the last words she spoke to him before her father's old, sturdy jeep drowned anything else she might have wanted to say.

* * *

Once he was inside, three things caught his notice.

One of them was John Smoth, of course, who said "Shinra!" as soon as he saw Sephiroth.  
The second was two wrapped gifts on the table – one flat, the other square and rather large.  
A white, folded piece of paper was the third thing he saw. Warily he seized and unfolded it.

_The flat gift is for John Smoth._

That was all. Somewhat bothered by the shortness of the note, he picked up the flat package and opened it for the parrot, although it wasn't Christmas yet. Paige would never know. "Hn," he chuckled as the gift wrapping revealed a hip-hop CD. He wouldn't put it on now – the bird could wait for Christmas. He placed the CD on the dark wooden table and picked up the other, larger gift. He couldn't tell what it was. Slowly he removed the wrapping, waiting with wonder to see whatever it was she had decided to give him.

It was s simple cardboard box, with no marks that gave away its contents. Sephiroth opened the top.

When he saw what was inside, he couldn't contain a grin.

Rubik's cubes. On top were a 3x3x3 cube and a 4x4x4 cube – the ones he had solved before. Beneath them lay four others: a tiny 2x2x2 cube, a 5x5x5, a 6x6x6 and a 7x7x7 cube. He had his work cut out for him. But below all the cubes lay another piece of paper with something scribbled on it. Sephiroth sat down on the sofa and read it.

_Hi, Sephiroth. I'll keep this short: You remember your sword, right? Believe it or not, it has been under the table ever since I got my hands on a wall mount for swords. It's not rusty, so please forgive me for not finding a better place. Have a nice Christmas._

Narrowing his eyes, Sephiroth patiently placed the note on the table and bent down slowly, tilting his head up to check under the table. There, attached to the table with a rather cheap wall mount (which was no doubt intended to hang on a wall and not under a table), was his Masamune. It had been that close all the time.

* * *

**R.R.**

Harr, harr, harr. (I laugh when I'm nervous)


	15. Reactions

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

Nothing like a good mistake (made by Cid) to speed things up. Speaking of Cid, I tried to give you some tiny hints waaay back in chapter 3 that he was the doctor. Heheheh. But I'm _still_ trying to warm you up to Solomon...

(Aww, man, I know this is chapter 15, but I'm just looking so much forward to write chapter 16!)

* * *

Reactions

* * *

Paige returned a week after New Year. She had planned to come back earlier, but her family had kept her from leaving. It was a little bit annoying, since the first day of school was tomorrow. It couldn't be helped, though – it was her fault for telling them about her... predicament. The moment she told her family what her doctor had said, they were so rattled she might as well have said she was already dead. She had of course waited until after Christmas and New Year's Eve were over before telling them. She didn't want to spoil the fun (her brother loved New Year's Eve more than any other day of the year - because of all the fireworks, no doubt). But she had told them in the end, anyway. Their reactions were understandable.

Her small house was warm and welcoming. By the looks of it, Sephiroth wasn't there.

But as she walked into the living room, still fully dressed, she could at least hear John Smoth. He was rapping in sync with the CD-player – he was listening to the CD she had given him for Christmas. Sephiroth had bothered to put it on for him before leaving. That was unusually kind.

Paige frowned, thinking.

Sephiroth was not there at the moment, all right, but...

… He would return, right? Like the other times? But now that she had revealed the whereabouts of his sword, and since his wounds had healed long ago, what if... Paige frowned. Still wearing her thick jacket and snow-covered boots, Paige flung herself to the living room floor with all the force of a murderous bulldozer – right by the table. Glaring at the underside of the table (still with all the force of a murderous bulldozer), she quickly came to the conclusion that the murderously-large-and-inconveniently-long sword that had been under the table for months, had turned into a _lack_-of-a-murderously-large-and-inconveniently-long sword. Personally, Paige felt that despite the fact that the sword and its elf-like, supernatural, magic-casting wielder were both very dangerous indeed, she would rather have them here, where she could see them. Not even the sword wall mount was under the table anymore.

"John Smoth, where's Sephiroth?" she asked, struggling to get up, since she was still wearing all her outerwear. She probably looked ridiculous. So much for the murderous bulldozer.

"It's so funky, so funky!"

"John Smoth-"

"Yeah, 'sup, man?"

"Smoth!"

"Takin' chances. Got my _eyes_ on ya," rapped John Smoth, bobbing his head.

"... Hip hop stinks," tried Paige. John Smoth quietened and rustled his feathers.

"Disrespect hip-hop and I'll spit in you' face!" he squawked – his oldest, most practised line. Besides "I got my _eye _on ya," of course.

Useless.

She had to admit, though, that sometimes his replies were frighteningly smart. She vaguely wondered where her mother had gotten hold of him. Paige narrowed her eyes. In the window frame was a small glass bowl with bird food. The seeds in it were barely even touched. That meant it must have been refilled a very, _very_ short while ago. Which meant someone must have been here, or must still be around.

Sephiroth, obviously. Or... hopefully.

During her visit to her family, she'd been watching news more than anything else – to hear about Shinra's fiends and other supernatural things. During the vacation she'd thought about the flying man in London. It couldn't be anyone else than Sephiroth. Who else could fly? She'd seen it broadcasted over and over again. Among other things, she remembered the man saying somethin about the 'Black Materia'. What was that? No, more importantly, fiends were showing up more and more frequently. Apparently some of them reappeared in the very same places over and over again. A number of people had been gravely injured. Many of the States had allowed people to carry arms to protect themselves, but more often than not that just led to nervousness among those who weren't used to be armed. Accidents had already happened. But despite all the commotion, the number of fiends had diminished the last few weeks.

Probably because Sephiroth had the Masamune. Paige shivered involuntarily.

* * *

He had heard her arrive.

Though he had been in the snowy garden, she hadn't noticed him. That he did not mind. He was busy with something else. While she had been away, one of Shinra's larger fiends had appeared outside her house – by chance – and before Sephiroth sent it to the world of the dead, it had managed to step on the outhouse. Needless to say, the old building had been crumpled to the ground by the monster's weight. There simply was no helping it. Therefore, since Paige had mentioned at some point that her father had promised to turn the outhouse into a _sauna_, and since she had given Sephiroth a set of Rubik's cubes for Christmas, _and _since he had not yet paid his rent (and was not planning to), and finally because it would scathe his pride to admit that he had not managed to prevent the large fiend from ruining Paige's outhouse, he had decided some days ago that building a sauna might not be a bad idea.

But he wouldn't tell Paige. She would have to find it on her own. Also, he would not tell her he was the one who had made it.

That said, it was an impressive building, despite not being painted. It had cost more than a only little to make. But alas, for him, money was not much of a problem. Sephiroth smirked. He had finished it yesterday – now he was just checking whether there was something he had forgotten. The only difference from the day before was that it was now completely covered in snow. That was the reason Paige and whoever drove her here hadn't noticed it.

Sephiroth turned and walked back to the house through the deep snow, the hilt of his Masamune tucked safely – familiarly – in his left hand.

* * *

When she saw Sephiroth come inside, his expression as reflecting and sceptical as ever, she felt joy. Her joy was mercilessly crushed into the semblance of a mashed potato very soon, though, because of his monstrous sword. Forget the thought of herself being a murderous bulldozer – that sword was beyond her by far. Compared to it she was like a miniscule version of Thomas the Tank Engine. To her relief, though, Sephiroth attached his sword by its hilt to the wall mount (the one she had bought way back when she had hidden his sword under the table). Now the wall mount was on the wall next to the door. She hadn't seen it.

Now that he wasn't holding his sword, though, she felt a little better. A _little_. Why did she want Sephiroth around, again?

"Uh, hi. Happy New Year," she said, although the new year hadn't brought _her_ a lot of happiness just yet.

"Likewise," he said, his face guarded. She didn't know what to make of it.

"... So, were the Rubik's cubes much of a challenge?" she asked. Despite herself, she couldn't hold back a smirk.

He, too, smirked at that.

"I have been busy with other matters, Shinra among them. But I have solved all the cubes except the largest – that one, I have not yet tried." A small pause ensued, during which Paige waited for her smirk to disappear. It didn't.

"Ok. Save it for when I'm around, then," she said. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't stifle her smirk. It was as if it was a part of her mask already. And how could it hurt? She wasn't going to be around for too long. She might as well challenge herself a little.

* * *

"Take your seats, please!" said the teacher, her voice shrill and impatient. A tough start of the year. The students shuffled slowly to their seats, chattering on their way, showing off things they'd been given for Christmas. Paige was already seated. She was leaning away from Solomon, who was trying to persuade her to tell him about her Christmas. He was using his most velvety, gentle voice. Half of the girls in the room were throwing glances at him. Maybe they were drooling at him mentally.

"I have something important to tell you, so please don't waste our time," added the teacher, a little louder. Her eyes flickered to Paige's a few times, but she didn't think much of it.

The others settled down and directed their attention at the teacher, who became very still. She seemed at loss of words. Again her eyes flickered to Paige's, not looking nearly as strict as usual.

A cold chill ran down Paige's spine.

"It is the wish of the school principal and... Paige's parents that... you be informed about-"

No.

No way.

Disaster.

"NO!" she shouted, on her feet with her fists on her desk before she even realized it. Her face was stiff as a block of ice. Her eyes were colder, no doubt.

"_That _is something you should _ask me_ about before you go ahead and announce it to everybody else," she said rigidly, her voice monotone. "And _I _won't hear of it." What were her parents _doing? _Telling on her? Did they want her to spend the rest of her life being _pitied _by everybody at her school?

"But-"  
"No."

"I-"  
"No. Please start the lesson now."

Then she sat down and slowly assumed her usual disinterested face, as if nothing had happened. The teacher had grown red – not with embarrassment, but anger and annoyance. That was how things were supposed to be.

* * *

During lunch, the school was buzzing with questions about what was wrong with her. Nobody knew. Thank goodness for that. In the beginning she had felt a little like a rat in a cat alley. Now she felt a bit more like a rat observing cats in an alley from somewhere out of reach. She hoped it would stay like that.

"Paige," said a light, beautiful voice.

… Sierra, the school princess. It had to be. No one else she knew of sounded that much like a female version of Solomon. Paige turned slowly, her face blank.

"Hm?" she asked.

But Sierra looked different today. She was still as gorgeous as usual, by all means, and her long and dark and wavy hair looked as long and dark and wavy as usual. But she was looking away, as if she was about to say something she didn't like.

"I... Well, my father is this school's principal, you know that, right? ...So I kind of asked him... I kind of asked him what was wrong with you." She glanced up, her golden eyes searching Paige's face, which by the way was even more stoney than before. "I'm sorry," Sierra added.

"...No. No problem. Just don't tell anyone. I don't want to be pitied for the rest of my life," Paige said quickly in a light whisper. She stared intently at Sierra while speaking, her 'mask' giving way as a warning smile made its way to her face. She probably looked a bit dangerous, or possibly slightly mad.

"Of course, I'll- I'll stay quiet," the school princess said nervously, stepping backwards and away while talking.

Paige turned the other way and strode away, as keen to remove herself from Sierra as Sierra was to get away from her.

* * *

Later the same day, when school was over and people were leaving, Paige was packing her bag with deliberate slowness. Her plan was to have a chat with the headmaster and tell him to stay quiet and not to listen to her parents. Maybe he could even talk some sense into them if they called her school again. It couldn't hurt to try. Meanwhile, though, she had to make him talk the other teachers into staying quiet as well. Paige didn't know how many of them knew about her leukemia.

She didn't get that far, though. The moment she walked out the door into the empty hall, she stood face to face with Solomon.

"... Paige," he said quietly, searching her eyes.

He was so close she strode backwards into the empty classroom again with her hands up in front of her, wearing a stiff expression. Solomon walked to the door, but not closer. He wore an apologetic expression. That didn't change the fact that he was a head taller than her and had shoulders almost as broad as Sephiroth's.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you, I... I was just wondering what the teacher was about to say this morning. Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice velvety soft and kind and worried and genuine. His eyes were similar – sky blue and glowing mercilessly at her until she looked away, her face still stiff. His blond hair might as well have been a halo. This man was her complete opposite in every way, it seemed to her now.

"Nothing that won't pass," she said, hoisting up her backpack some as she readied to pass him.

When she walked closer, though, he raised an arm to block the door.

"Please," he said. "Please tell me what's wrong." He looked like he was in pain. His eyes were radiating with it.

Paige set her jaw and turned on her heel, a plan already formed in her mind. She rushed to the closest window. It opened with a jerk and the sound of tearing ice, and within a second she had thrown her backpack out. Then she followed. Lucky thing this was the first floor. In a small fit of panic, she slammed the window shut behind her and tried to walk out of there, pulling her backpack behind her. The snow was deeper than ever – up past her knees. She was probably moving an inch per second.

Very soon, she heard the frosty crunch of feet landing in snow. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Solomon.

"I don't want to tell you anything," she muttered loudly through her teeth. Behind her, Solomon struggled in the snow as well. He had longer legs than her, though, so it was easier for him to move. The world was just unfair like that. You had to be realistic about these things.

"Paige, if something's wrong, let me _help,_" he said from behind her. "I'll do everything I can. _Anything!_"

Paige shuffled and strived through the snow like a duck or goose or some other waddling creature. Behind her, Solomon endured in his struggles to catch up.

"You can't do anything!" Paige exclaimed, almost falling on her face as she tried walking faster. Solomon didn't say anything, although he was already by her side. Together they waddled through the snow, racing with all the style of two drunken penguins. Before long he was ahead of her and made a sharp turn, then stopped in front of her. Paige didn't want to turn and head back – not with all that snow awaiting her. It was a lot shorter to the walkway just yards away (which had been cleared of snow).

"Solomon," she started, and he stopped before saying whatever he'd planned to say. He seemed to be listening with his entire body. "You can't help me with this. Please listen to me: Don't waste your time on me, because I'm not going to stay here for much longer."

He frowned, confused.

"You're... moving away?" he tried quietly. Paige stared at his light blond locks, avoiding his eyes. How could he not be out of breath? He was radiating knight-on-white-horse aura even now.

"I," she started, but what could she say? "Just move out of my way, please. Now."

But instead, he reached out and took one of her hands and held it fast. She stared at their hands like they were aliens, and dangerously lethal aliens at that. Then, with her free arm, she performed a block she had learned at karate (from her karate teacher, Solomon's father, ironically enough) to get his hands off her wrist. The block was over before Solomon saw what happened, and for some long seconds, the two of them gawked at her surprising move together. She didn't know she could block with so much force. Talk about _snap._ Her karate teacher would be proud.

Then she was brought back to reality as she remembered that Solomon knew karate too. He was probably twenty times better than her too.

"Uuh, if, _if _you don't step aside, I'll punch you," she tried, probably in vain. Solomon just smiled his soft smile – seemingly charmed by her lack of confidence.

"... I don't think you will," he said quietly, warmly.

Oh?

What was this?

"Yes I _will_," she retorted grumpily, but with a straight face, glancing around for an escape route or something she could use to distract him.

"... Paige, you're hiding something. Are you afraid of telling me?" he asked. She could tell what was coming. A super long tale of how much she could trust him with anything and everything, and how he would never tell on her or let her down, and how he would help her until the very end. She didn't doubt that he'd try his best to do it, for as long he could. But she wasn't going to stay for very long. Months, at most. Solomon needed to stop wasting his time on her. He was handsome and gentlemanly and masculine and kind enough to pick anybody.

But he needed to forget her, so that when she suddenly wasn't around anymore, it wouldn't hurt him as much. He was a good guy, after all.

"No," she muttered. "But I need you to do something for me."

"... What?" he asked, his eyes alight with the possibilities her words might give him.

"_Forget_ me. Or you'll... you may be devastated, or hurt, or_ something_," replied Paige, watching as he frowned with worry and confusion. He looked like he wanted to shake her shoulders to make her talk, but he didn't. Obviously he knew she wouldn't like that.

"Why...?" he asked. "What's wrong?" His eyes were so intense that instead of looking back into them, she had to concentrate on the bridge of his nose. It worked to some degree.

_This is useless._

He'd find out in the end anyway.

It would be better to give him some time to prepare for her imminent_ death, _however wrong it sounded.

_Here goes..._

"... Lew-kee-mee-ah," she said quietly, dragging out the word while pointing vaguely at herself. _Leukemia – _blood cancer.

She might as well have stabbed him.

Never before had she seen anyone grow so deathly pale so fast. All warmth drained from his face. For a second he looked through her as is she were somewhere else. Then he refocused and his face changed. If she were asked to describe his expression, she'd say he looked like someone who had just been dealt his final blow, but had yet to realize how badly hurt he was. But in a matter of seconds he understood everything, it seemed. He was in shock – he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a slow, warm plume of white smoke in the cold air. Suddenly powerless, he leaned forward so that she couldn't see his face. There was no doubt in her mind that he was in pain and didn't want her to see it in his face. For a moment Paige couldn't get herself to move.

She'd hurt him.

Or...

… Maybe he thought she was joking. She frowned.

"...Some months from now, I won't be around anymore," she said in something akin to a whisper. "It's too late to treat it. Even if I do, I'll only get a little extra time to live, and I'll be chained to a hospital bed until I die. And I don't want-"

Before she finished speaking, he caught her in a death grip of an embrace.

Almost immediately she panicked and started pushing him away, but he didn't relent. He was trembling, and she heard a sharp intake of breath. But she was was horror-struck, and his sudden embrace had taken all the air out of her lungs. With all her might and strength she tried pushing him away and prying his arms off.

"Stop! ...Let go, or I'll kick you! I mean it!" And although her words were easy enough to hear, her voice sounded muffled and weak, and shaky. "I'll punch and hit and kick and, and- I'll..."

"Paige," he said. This time, his voice was miserable. He sounded heartbroken. It frightened her without end.

"Paige, you can punch me and hit me and kick me all you want," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "If that's the only thing you'll ever need me for, I'll be here, ready and waiting. I'm not joking. You're more important to me in this world than anything."

Her mind went blank.

"I'll help you," he continued, his voice low. "I won't give up. If the only thing you need is something to punch, or to yell at, or even ignore..." He tracked off. Paige was nearly crying, and she hated it. She was already terrified, and now she felt guilty beyond compare. Her knees were weakening by the second.

"Even if... Even if one day you're not here anymore, I'll keep you in my heart. I'll live for you, and dream for you, and remember you. I'll be brave for you. You're in my heart. Deep in my heart." His words were muffled. "So while you're still here, _don't_ give up."

Before she could help herself, she sobbed. Nothing she said to him would help.

"I understand..." he said, his voice thin, on the point of breaking, yet as soothing as he could muster.

At some point her knees had given away beneath her, but he was still holding her close, his head bent down, buried in her shoulder. She thought that perhaps he was crying, and didn't want her to see – maybe that was why he hugged her for so long.

* * *

Sephiroth felt her presence before he saw or heard her. He was in the living room, but he could still sense her as she came closer. Frowning in suspicion he got to his feet and walked close enough to the window to look outside.

As he thought.

_She is not alone._

By her side was none other than her ultimate source of distress. Solomon, was it? He was walking by her side up the snowy road, his expression torn all the time except when Paige looked at him. Then he smiled as if to apologize, or comfort her. Paige, on the other hand, was wearing a murderous frown, which occasionally wavered. She was trying desperately to keep some distance between them. Her face was red with the effort. But her feeble attempts were in vain – Solomon held her fast, his grip unrelenting at her shoulders as he supported her. On his back were two backpacks. One of them belonged to Paige.

And although Paige seemed out of breath and unable to walk in a straight line on her own, Sephiroth found himself highly displeased that she could not even muster the strength to push the blonde man away.

A minute later she got inside. She muttered angrily at Solomon – something about not telling anybody else about some matter – then, after some seconds, she shut the door. Sephiroth could still hear her breathing as she struggled to get off her duvet jacket and kick off her shoes. When she shuffled inside, the first thing she did was to scowl suspiciously in his direction. He was standing by the window, next to John Smoth. From there it was easy to see her flushed face. It was less easy to tell whether it was caused by the biting cold or something relating to Solomon.

"... Did you see that?" she asked, her voice meek. Her expression was different – vivid, in fact. It was rather distracting.

"Solomon, I mean?" she repeated.

"... Yes." One would have to be blind not to see that flashy man and his attempts at wooing Paige.

"I tried to make him go home, to leave me alone. But he's _smart_." Smart? He raised an eyebrow at that. If Solomon was smart, what did that make Sephiroth? Paige looked displeased.

"He lured me to tell him about my leukemia." Now she looked lost. It was odd how fast her expression changed. He wasn't used to it. "And Sierra knows, too. She made her dad tell her, since he's the principal."

"And how did he find out?" Sephiroth queried. Her expression darkened.

"My parents called him. I just barely stopped our teacher from telling it to the whole class. But now Solomon knows... That Solomon..." And he could tell she felt miserable, although he couldn't even see her face now, since she was looking at her feet. A silence ensued, filled only with the memory of the last word she had spoken, a word that made him feel bitter and irked. Solomon, it seemed, had gained a rather unnerving dominance in Paige's mind.

What to do about that?

* * *

**R.R.**

(John Smoth's got his _eye _on ya)


	16. Elaborations and Presidents

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

Thanks a thousand times for your reviews! (Hahah! You seem to like Solomon just as much as Paige does!)

Before you read this unusual, SUPAH-long (for me, anyway) chapter, please rest assured that I'm just an author (with a little bit imagination) and not some terrorist. Heh...

* * *

Elaborations and Presidents

* * *

Paige had rarely felt more restless.

Every day she received at least one call from her family. They (mostly her mum or dad) would ask how she was doing, try their best to comfort her, and sometimes end up trying to stifle their tears. They had already visited her once. Bell was the only one who still behaved as usual – she didn't understand what leukemia meant (or death, for that matter). Her brother Benjamin was the complete opposite. Instead of spending his time carelessly asking her for matches or other things he could use to make 'bombs', he sat awkwardly with her parents and glanced occasionally at her, looking broken in his own way – avoiding her eyes when she looked back, keeping from talking so his voice wouldn't break, and avoiding to go outside while they were at her house. And although she felt bad admitting it, she had felt better after they left.

Whenever she had nothing to do, she got angry with herself for wasting away her time.

Today was one such day – until she turned on the television. But even when she realized the seriousness of the situation, all she could do was gawk with shock and stare on like a fool.

* * *

Recently things had been abnormally calm. Shinra's fiends were disappearing, one by one, even without Sephiroth's help. Back in the small town in which he currently stayed in hiding, nothing at all seemed to happen. There was nothing for him to do – apart from go to work, apparently. Even that was not nearly as interesting as it had been in the beginning. By the looks of it, the students were getting used to him, and despite a long Christmas vacation (including all the Christmas food) they were working harder than ever. The only one who almost openly challenged him was Solomon. He had taken it upon himself to repeatedly tell Sephiroth to let Paige take it easy during the P.E. classes. So far, though, all Sephiroth had done was to order Paige to do only what she had the energy to do. She didn't listen – she only worked harder. Apart from his work, though, there was practically nothing with which he could occupy himself. To him, everything seemed more dreary by the day.

Sephiroth found that time had never passed more slowly.

That is, until he walked into the living room and saw Paige goggling at the television. He turned to the screen. Very soon he caught the gist of it – and it was no laughing matter, that was for certain. In fact, it seemed utterly (and suspiciously) impossible.

But it had happened all the same, it would seem.

Two news anchors were interrupting each other with a non-stop stream of exclamations about the US President. By the sound of it, he had been taken hostage. The captors were foolish enough to have arranged a live video, which they were broadcasting via an internet page right now. The video was being shown (and commented about) by the news broadcast channel Paige was watching. Its quality was so good one could easily see the faces of the evildoers. In the middle, the President stood on his knees on a snow-covered platform with a bag over his head, his hands tied behind his back. He was leaning a little at an angle. His shoulders were shaking with cold, or perhaps fear. No wonder. He was surrounded by his abductors, whose warm breath formed visible plumes of smoke, and who circled around him.

But something was off. According to the news anchors, the kidnappers had revealed their exact location. Surely somebody was going to rescue the suit-clad Head of State sometime soon.

"They're terrorists. They announced earlier that they were gonna _kill_ him," said Paige, frowning at the screen.

"If that is so, why are they stalling?" he questioned, his eyes locking on a particularly interesting feature of one of the kidnappers – his eyes were not that of a human. Sephiroth was certain of it.

"They said they'll do it six o'clock," Paige replied, but Sephiroth was only half listening.

The kidnappers were not human. Their eyes were red. Surely somebody else must have noticed that this was something else than just colored contacts. These were not men, but fiends. Just as Sephiroth drew the conclusion that Shinra might somehow be involved, one of the terrorists walked forth through the snow and seized the camera.

"Let's show you what we're prepared for!" he said, his voice a raspy, deep snarl as he turned the camera and let it sweep the surrounding area. And sure enough – below the small platform on which they stood, a horde of fiends in the shape of both beasts and men were standing at the ready, stretching as far as the camera could see. Hundreds of them were jam-packed, standing restlessly around the platform, stepping down the snow with audible crunches. A dim fog hung above them – maybe created by their breath. As they watched, one rather large dog-like creature closed its jaw around a smaller fiend and started shaking its head furiously back and forth, ripping it apart and killing it. The attack was answered immediately by gunfire from each of the armed 'men' in there. The fiend was dead before its victim had fully vaporized in a cloud of pyreflies. It didn't faze Sephiroth – he had seen so much worse that he subconsciously waited for them to show him something more horrible.

"Before you can even get here..." started the fiendish voice, and this time, the picture changed. The platform was showed from several different angles, from different cameras placed on top of makeshift stands around the wintry area. They couldn't have chosen a more deserted place – from the looks of it, there weren't any roads there. Just a snowy hill, surrounded by dark forests. "...We'll have killed this guy." And the picture changed back to the first camera, which was put back on its stand before the President.

"Sephiroth!" said Paige suddenly – from right by his side. His head snapped to her, his eyes narrowing in surprise. She was staring at him openly, standing so close of her own volition that he was given a fresh reminder how pale she really was. Her light brown hair framed her face, slightly ruffled, and her forelocks hung in a sharp, horizontal line above her eyes. Her icy orbs pierced his with a determination that could easily equal that of those who had once worked under his command.

"... What?" he demanded, feeling rather like a superior in the presence of his subordinate. That only lasted for a second, however – it simply felt out of place.

"You _have _to save him!" she said, her hands curling into fists as she kept staring at him.

Whatever was this about? Sephiroth's eyes narrowed.

"Why should I?" he asked, colder than he had intended. At that she cringed away some. A short silence ensued.

"Yo. Ridin' tha storm." The parrot in the far corner of the room shifted on his T-stand. Paige glanced at the bird, then turned to Sephiroth again.

"I would do it myself, if I could fly. Or use magic."

Sephiroth arched an eyebrow.

"Without knowing the first thing about how to fight the opponents?" he questioned her.

"_Yes._ With enough speed, I might even be able to get him out of there before they kill me! Others could take it from there!" she declared.

"... And why, exactly, would you want to die for the President?"

Fame? Glory? Acknowledgement? A simple wish to do something worthwhile before her death?

"It's-... It's- It was one of my greatest wishes, that's why!" she blurted awkwardly. Her gaze flickered uneasily. "...Guess why I wanted to train karate!" she continued. A rosy blush was building in her cheeks, and she averted her eyes while frowning.

… How would he know such a thing? Was it not to protect herself against Solomon and others at her school?

"Because... I wanted to, well, my ambition or whatever you may call it, was to be able to protect," she said, her voice weakening significantly towards the end of the sentence. A full, healthy flush had made its way to her face now. "It's a bit embarrassing, but... to protect my siblings, or at least my little sister..." Her voice disappeared and she turned away a little, as if thoroughly regretting what she had said. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was amused. What did her sister have to do with the president? To tell the truth, though, she had a long way to go before she could protect anyone properly. She would need strength and persistence. Given enough time, though, she might reach her ambition.

But she hardly had time.

The thought of it made him restless. He didn't like it.

"I see," he said, thinking.

He hadn't though about just how little time she had left. A few months? Before that, she should do what she pleased. A faint, distant memory of the men he had seen killed in action appeared before his inner eye: how their fellow soldiers had done everything they could to make the last minutes of their friends as good as possible, which was hardly good at all. In the beginning Sephiroth, too, had tried. As the years went on, however, he had stopped. It might be harder for Paige to cope with impending death than a soldier, though – she was younger, and not a soldier, after all. Then... Should he help her by fulfilling this one request? Frowning, he though of the sauna he had recently built. Paige hadn't noticed it yet. It was behind her house, covered in deep snow. In a way he had already done something for her.

If he did her this favor also, she would owe him.

"Please," he heard her say, her voice soft and quiet. Her face was different – vivid and pleading and determined and even slightly angry all at the same time. Strong. _Insistent_.

"I'll do anything," she added.

"...Anything?" he repeated, unable to keep a trace of mock out of his tone. She needed to be more careful with her words. That said, though, whatever could _she_ do for _him_?

"Anything," she confirmed.

"I will take your word for it, then." After he had spoken, they stood still for just a moment, then he turned and left the room.

* * *

Paige watched in confused wonder and thankfulness as Sephiroth left the room. Soon he returned, carrying something vaguely familiar... A black- and white-patterned bed sheet. After some long seconds she recognized it as the one that she had seen the 'flying man' carry in London. Sephiroth caught her look and gave a low chuckle. He had something else also: a simple, black hood. It wouldn't hide his face that well, nor his hair, that was for sure, but it couldn't hurt to try. By the looks of it, he wasn't planning to dress up just because he was going to save the president. But still, Shinra... Wouldn't Shinra know for sure it was Sephiroth, if he showed himself like that? Her eyes travelled from his hood to the patterned bed sheet.

"What's the bed sheet for?" she asked.

"...It's for the President."

Paige's eyes bulged. She might as well drop the mask pretence now, since she'd been so expressive all day. Despite herself she could already imagine it – the President sitting in the bed sheet, with his head peeking out and his face saying "This is slightly unusual. This is slightly unusual indeed."

And then, after pulling his black hood over his head and seizing his great sword, Sephiroth left.

* * *

It was simply pathetically easy to find their 'hideout', if it could even be called one.

They had pretty much revealed their location to everyone already, since they were so far from population (and so high up in the mountains) that nobody would get there in time anyway, even with helicopters. Also, they were in Canada, not the US, so there was a slight chance preparations had to be made before sending in jets with men in parachutes or blackbird planes or some such. Still, what use would an airplane do? The 'terrorists' were nothing else than fiends – monsters sent by Shinra. Perhaps the Shinra President had made the Turks abduct the US President. The mere thought made Sephiroth scoff – they could not have made it more obvious that this was all a trap, a bait they had gotten their hands on only to lure out Sephiroth. Why did they think he cared for the well-being of the President? He had come here for only two reasons. One, to kill some fiends; two, because Paige would now owe him something which he had not yet decided to claim from her. What did she have, that he could want?

That aside, the number of monsters below him was ridiculous. From above they looked like a black mass. Insects. Would one of these creatures be able to put a gun to good use if somebody were to come here in time? It was an open area, with only a large, flat platform in the middle. On it – apart from snow – were a few man-like fiends and the President. Below the platform fiends of all shapes, sizes and strengths surrounded the single human. On his way here, Sephiroth had seen helicopters all over the place: military choppers, television teams, and ambulance helicopters. None of them dared come too close, for fear that the President would be killed. He had seen humans on the roads closest to this area, too. Almost half of them had been busy talking in their cellphones. Had they nothing better to do? No ideas, even? None of them had seen him – he was far above them all, with his sword in one hand and the patterned bed sheet roughly folded and tucked in the other. He knew what to do, though. Somewhat. As long as the _President_ survived, that was all right for Paige, was it not?

Smirking as adrenaline surged through him, Sephiroth dove at the speed of sound.

He landed in some snow covering the sloping hill overlooking the horde of fiends, and continued by sliding down through the snow and raising his Masamune out to his left. Hearing the snow shuffling and crunching, fiends quickly turned, one by one, to see who was approaching. For now all they could see was the darkness and the shadows outside the dimly lit platform. Sephiroth, as soon as he reached the edge of their makeshift camp, came to a stop.

With as much force he could muster in one blow he swung his sword in a horizontal line.

Before him, heads were split from their torsos and torsos from legs, and for a second it looked rather like a massacre – with blood spurting everywhere – until the fiends vanished in clouds of pyreflies. The slash of his sword had carried much longer than that – even the platform gave a worrying creek and fell down slightly at one side, with a noisy jerk of metal. Amid the dying monsters, the rough stands on which the video cameras stood had been sliced apart too, and they had fallen into the snow. No doubt people all over the world were screaming with frustration when they couldn't follow this live from several angles. At least one camera was left – the one at the platform itself.

Sephiroth was on the platform before any of the fiends there could raise their weapons. Consciously facing away from the camera, Sephiroth stepped before the President and swung his Masamune towards the man. He could only imagine (with some satisfaction) how many gasps could be heard across the globe as he did – but his aim was not to behead the man. The brown bag on the President's head fell to his shoulder and continued to the snow at his knees. Horror-stricken, the man's eyes focused and he stared straight at Sephiroth. Still, he remained silent, his eyes flickering about as he frowned deeply – to the camera, to the place where he had no doubt heard the fiends die moments before, to his sides to check if there was anyone left except Sephiroth.

Something red caught Sephiroth's eye.

One of the remaining fiends had a materia – a burning red one, at that.

"A summon?" he asked, his mocking voice carrying easily through the silence.

Before long, the chilly, blue snow around them gained a red, warm hue as the summoned creature appeared, quickly descending from above. It seemed to be one of the Bahamuts. As it stepped upon the platform, the platform gave and cracked below its feet, then fell. Not far, but it gave Sephiroth enough time to throw the bed sheet at the President while bringing forth a materia of his own.

With a twist of his hand and a surge of energy he let the spell work: A dark sphere of black sparks and what would certainly feel like gravity-changing barriers grew right in front of the dragon-like summon and exploded at its feet. The beast reeled back as the scorching magic and the freezing wind blew in its face – and his own, too – and it growled in anger and pain as the Ultima spell took effect. Sephiroth repeated the spell. This time the summon fell back, but soon it snapped its head towards them with a deep, rumbling snarl. Then it opened its jaw and revealed the flare which was building in between all his dark, long fangs. Sephiroth knew he could withstand it, but the President? Death by magic flare was not something that could be easily explained to the media.

Displeased for a moment at what he was going to do, Sephiroth stepped in front of the US President, who was already standing upright with the bed sheet wrapped around his shoulders, the end trailing in the snow. The flashing flare erupted from the throat of the great summoned creature and streamed towards them. Sephiroth launched another Ultima spell at the same time, to counter and protect, but together the two magic attacks seared his skin for a moment, then everything went silent again. Sephiroth scowled at the glowing eyes of the beast.

Shinra meant to beat him with _this? _He half expected Turks and Soldiers to appear any second. Perhaps the summoned beast was a diversion.

Rushing forward at the beast, Sephiroth held his Masamune down, and let it cut upwards into the beast's guts, and onwards, through ribs and lungs and throat and horned jaw and, finally, head. Its head snapped up and blood spluttered in scarlet rivulets up in the air for a moment. Then the giant dragon went still, its jaw slowly dropping open. Then, with a thunderous crash, it fell to one side and momentarily blinded them as thousands upon thousands of pyreflies swarmed and scurried away into thin air. The silence that followed was broken as Sephiroth turned to the President in the crunchy snow. The important man was frowning, speechless at what he had witnessed firsthand.

Then, in the distance, he heard engines. Shouting men were coming closer and headlights crossed the top of the hills.

* * *

Paige was watching with her heart in her throat and awe filtering through her entire body.

Before her eyes, and before the eyes of everybody else watching the live news broadcast, Sephiroth had slain a monster the size of a dinosaur. A dragon, with horns up its back and around its head and down its jaws, with bony wings and scales thick as armor. Tiny, beady, glowing eyes had locked on Sephiroth and the President and then drowned them in a flare of colored flames. For a moment she had thought they were dead, or at the very least mortally wounded, but Sephiroth had done something, some magic, that had shielded them against most of it. Magic that was much, _much _stronger than the little magic tricks he had shown her before. And then, with an uppercut-like flick of his sword, he'd sliced the dragon in two, like a celebrity might casually wave away persistent interviewers. It was positively terrifying.

And extremely awesome.

* * *

Just as the first helicopters appeared over the hill and Sephiroth was about to take his leave, he saw something rather disturbing. In between ambulance helicopters, news broadcasters' helicopters and military choppers, he spotted a few Shinra logos. They probably pretended to be reporters or photographers, or some such. With a sneer, Sephiroth turned on his heel and adjusted his hood, then strode over to the President and tore the corners of the large, patterned bed sheet from his hands.

Then he took off, and the President fell over and into the bed sheet, with a surprised exclamation. Then they were in the air, Sephiroth holding his Masamune in one hand and the President in a bed sheet hanging from his other hand.

Before long, Sephiroth whizzed through the air past the helicopters, some which which quickly turned and took chase.

* * *

"No!" Paige yelled, annoyed and angry. No cameras were following Sephiroth anymore, even though they were trying.

Sephiroth had taken the President with him. Getting abducted twice a day was enough of a feat, but by a flying man? That was something she'd like to _see, _to watch closely. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to will the cameras to find Sephiroth in the dark skies they were filming. Surely carrying the President would slow him down enough for the helicopters to keep up? Even so, something told Paige she might have to wait a while before Sephiroth appeared on TV again. Perhaps all night.

"Keep walkin' and ya can't get far, whereva' ya are," John Smoth rapped.

* * *

Any other person might be screaming and shouting with fear and surprise and even anger, but the US President was remarkably calm and still. In shock, perhaps. Sephiroth had glanced down at him a few times to check if the man was even conscious. He was, but a look of profound confusion – which sometimes changed into deep concentration – was on his face. Perhaps he was thinking of how to explain this in a credible way. Sephiroth stepped in the air to increase their speed.

Then something raced past them with the sound of thunder.

His eyes darted forward – all he saw was a black spot far ahead. _A military airplane, perhaps?_

"That's-" started the President, but then Sephiroth took a sharp turn south and increased his speed as much as the President (and the bed sheet) could handle. His Masamune twitched in his left hand, at the ready.

* * *

Since Sephiroth was not at home, Paige had allowed herself to be rather immaturely attached to the television screen. She was on her knees before the small thing, so close that the light from it stung her eyes. The suspense had tired her so much that she had already fallen asleep many times, but she'd woken up before she hit the floor, luckily. But from what the news reporters said, Sephiroth was being watched. How, she had no idea. Maybe satellites? In any case, she was on the verge of drooling with anxiety.

What if Sephiroth had kidnapped the President for some purpose only he knew of?

What if Sephiroth hurt the President?

No, what if Sephiroth brought the President back to her house?!

"Hnn," she muttered, as if in pain. "No..."

"Your favorite record has gotta go," squawked John Smoth hoarsely, for a change. Until now, he'd been muttering something along the lines of "I'm hot 'cause I'm fly, you ain't 'cause you not." She guessed it had something to do with the fact that John Smoth had watched Sephiroth _fly_ on the TV.

* * *

For hours he flew, and for hours yet he watched and listened as airplanes and fiends and whatnot flew past him. Although it was dark, he had a fair guess they had other means with which to keep him under surveillance. They knew his position. To be quite honest, though, he was getting rather impatient, and bored. If it weren't for all the baggage, he could have moved several times faster. By now the President had attempted to speak up a few times. Sephiroth felt a certain degree of satisfaction every time he chose not to answer.

But now they were getting close to the destination of his choice.

The White House.

He could think of no better place to drop off the President. It would be very much like an open challenge – Shinra would no doubt be troubled, and certain people within Shinra would be even more annoyed.

* * *

The first thing Paige noticed when she woke up, was that something was stuck to her cheek. When she moved she realized it was the living room floor, and started up. Pain travelled up and down her neck, and she was cold from sleeping with no blanket, but her focus was elsewhere. Her eyes tried to focus on the screen.

An incredulous sentence passed across the screen: _Flying London man kidnaps the President – Is heading towards the White House._

"What?!" hissed Paige, two fists punching the floor. John Smoth woke up at that, and quietly rustled his feathers.

Sephiroth was back on the screen, and – thank goodness – it didn't seem like he'd been planning to bring the President back home to her place. Why would he, anyway? The White House was obviously more suited for this kind of purpose. Helicopters and soldiers were already all over. Perhaps they'd predicted Sephiroth would come there, if he'd been moving in a straight line for a long time. In any case, Sephiroth – face still obscured by his large hood – was about to land.

He was levitating in mid-air above the roof of the south face of the White House.

Not a single one of the news anchors or reporters spoke a word. Paige was holding her breath with them. The suspense was understandable, in this kind of situation.

Sephiroth stepped down on the roof and let go of the bed sheet, which was right by his side. Already dosens of soldiers appeared in various places on the roof, but Sephiroth paid no heed. Oh, how she wanted to know what he was thinking, or perhaps saying, or what the President would do, or anything else that would serve as a mild enlightenment. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting John Smoth to break the silence, but the parrot had turned his back on all the suspense and was eating his bird food. When she turned back to the screen, all the soldiers on the roof were aiming guns at Sephiroth. Paige went cold.

* * *

Sephiroth watched the President get to his feet and shrug his shoulders a little. Despite the circumstances, he managed to look just like usual – if anything, he simply looked tired. In the corner of an eye he also saw black-clothed men surround them, each holding a gun of their own. Below them, in front of the garden, were hundreds of cameras and even more reporters, all utterly still. In the garden itself, other armed men were stationed. Above, helicopters loomed and circled around them. Among them Sephiroth couldn't see anyone from Shinra. No wonder – now they could watch him live from any television in the world, no doubt. The thought made this all seem almost worthwhile. But what now? The US President looked like he wanted to say something. Before that, however, he stepped away rather uneasily, to remove his feet from the bed sheet. Sephiroth turned to him fully, and as he did the silence strengthened tenfold. All the soldiers on the roof, and others yet on the frosty lawn below, held their fingers on the trigger.

Some might think Sephiroth was a good man who had just saved the President, others no doubt thought he had other intentions, and that the President was in danger. While some wanted him dead, a few others may look upon him as a being belonging in a lab, or some such.

"Let the President walk over here!" said a loud voice, with more authority than Sephiroth liked. The man who had spoken stood by the flag pole on the middle of the roof. He had no weapons of his own.

"Wait," said the President, who then turned and faced Sephiroth completely. The man was somewhat shorter than him, Sephiroth noted absently._ Yet he holds more political power than any other person in the world holds. If one counts only the people who have gained power by legal means, that is._

"...Thank you," said the President, trying out his grounds. Sephiroth raised his head, scowling darkly from within his hood. He hadn't done this for the President, after all. One half fearful eye flickered from his face to his Masamune, which didn't seem to help a lot. "Thank you for rescuing me," he repeated.

Another silence ensued, during which the man dared to hold Sephiroth's glowing eyes.

"...Is there _anything_ you wish for in return...?" suggested the President. _In return for having saved him, or in return for letting him go now? _The President wasn't sure about that himself, apparently.

"No." There was nothing he could give Sephiroth that would be of help.

The unarmed man by the flag pole raised his voice. "We have more than two hundred soldiers pointing their guns at you! Let the President come here quietly," he demanded.

Sephiroth frowned.

"Calm yourselves!" said the President all of a sudden. "This is the man I was rescued by, and I will not turn him away before I can somehow pay him back. Tell me," he said, turning to Sephiroth once more, "you are the man who appeared in London, and who disappeared in thin air afterwards? Am I correct?"

Then a shrill _bram _sounded as a gun went off – from the lawn below. Even before the bullet got halfway, Sephiroth had turned around and confirmed his immediate suspicion: the man who had fired was no doubt working for Shinra. Sephiroth recognized his weapon.

The second thing that occurred to him was that the bullet was heading for the President, and not for himself.

Unsurprisingly the President's eyes were all that had moved yet – he didn't even know who the bullet was heading for. Sephiroth lunged forward and swung his sword, easily flicking the bullet away before it could do harm. The bullet ricocheted off his blade and spun into the air. The Shinra employee – red-eyed and with a fiendish air about him, aimed again and started shooting madly. Sephiroth scowled at the attempt and hit the bullets one by one with his sword. Already, he could see people goggling at him. Growing annoyed, he raised his sword and brought it down. The slash – airborne now – carried down towards the man-like fiend and sliced him in half. Before long the creature vanished in a cloud of the ever-so-familiar pyreflies of dying energy. All that was left behind was a deep gash on the frost-covered lawn.

With goggling eyes and some flashing cameras, people kept staring. This time the quietness did not last, however. Behind Sephiroth (and the President, for that matter), he could hear people and weapons shifting as they prepared to open fire.

"Please, let us come to an agreement!" interrupted the President, his voice raised. "Just calm down," he continued as he slowly turned to face Sephiroth. He didn't look fazed – not judging by his face, at least. His hands were halfway up in front of him, either to protect him or simply to underline his point. That said, he seemed to want to step away. Only will, and perhaps pride, kept him. "You rescued me. There must be something I can do to prove my gratefulness?"

There it was, in his face and his voice, and even in the way the man was standing – a speck, a small trace of the President's familiar charisma. One of the reasons people looked up to him so. Sephiroth glanced at all the armed men in the background.

"I did not rescue you of my own volition," declared Sephiroth.

_I was talked into it._

His voice was loud enough for a number of others to hear. The President blinked, but otherwise he seemed like a person who might just have been told about a trivial detail about the weather, or any other matter that was completely and utterly without importance.

"I see... Then might I ask who it is I owe my life to?"

… _And steal away the remains of her days by leading media and various broadcasting stations her way?_

"No," sounded his reply. A pause ensued, during which the man seemed to be thinking hard. It didn't show on his face, though. "Then, what can I do for you?" he asked, blinking in the cold wind.

… Come to think of it, there might be something after all.

"Simply remember this," said Sephiroth, lowering his volume so no eavesdroppers would hear, "_Shinra._" The President's brow furrowed.

"Shinra?" he repeated, his voice low, too.

Sephiroth took a step back and turned away some. "You would do well to avoid contact with them, seeing as they are at fault for the fiends that have been roaming the earth recently."

Finally more than a short flicker of emotion ran across the President's diplomatic face – his eyes widened in surprise.

* * *

Paige watched the tiny television screen at a distance now, since her eyes were already watery from watching for so long. She was still on the floor, though, ready to move closer to her tiny television if something interesting happened, a turn of events. Silently, she stared at Sephiroth talking with the President. The conversation was short, and nothing they said was picked up by the cameras or microphones – at least not those that belonged to broadcasting stations. The President might mention what they had talked about in a press conference later, though. Perhaps. As in maybe, or maybe _not._

Then Sephiroth stepped back and turned away some, added something to what he'd just said, and jumped off the roof and into the air. Within a second he was out of the screen, and when the cameras turned to zoom him in, he was just a black spot in the distance. She was too tired to fuss at the lack of a proper picture.

Before she could do anything else, though, the doorbell sounded.

_That _made her eyes widen.

Who could it be?

_My family?_ ...Would they buy it if she pretended not to be home? Or would they tear the door off its hinges in fear that she was really sick or unable to move?

The doorbell started ringing again – twice, three times. Then she heard the door open fast, and someone hurried inside.

"Paige? Are you here?"

_Hnng. No... No way..._

Her eyes bulged as Solomon burst inside.

* * *

R.R.

(Supah-Solomon? Lol, who's dat.) I didn't say anything.


	17. Comprehension

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

Wahahahah! Good one, Into The Blue! Superoth for the win, yeah! Ooh, and thanks for deh reviews! I've tried to come up with a way to describe how I feel when I read them, but it's impossible, since your reviews are too awesome. (Haha, Inuyasha-Hojo, eh? Think you're onto something there!)

* * *

Comprehension

* * *

Solomon was in her house.

Paige had no idea why.

But no matter what the reason was, Solomon was on _her territory_.

Paige was so furious that soon, she might be described as a a rabid, berserk bull-lion-dinosaur-bulldoser-something on a murderous rampage to kill its lifelong arch enemy. Perhaps her eyes were growing red at this moment, or maybe she was growing the fangs of a sabre tooth tiger, or it could be that her muscles were rippling and growing until she looked like one of those Mr. Universe guys. Some things she was sure of, though: her blood was boiling, she was scowling very deeply and very darkly, and she was standing with the dark wooden living room table in front of her like some sort of shield.

Buuut... she was still scared as a coward.

"_What _are you doing here?!" she demanded in a hiss, scowling still. Solomon immediately walked backwards to the living room door, with his hands in front of him.

"Sorry! When, uh, when I woke up this morning, my dad said you never showed up for karate practice yesterday, so I got worried..."

Paige paled.

_...Ka-Karate?_

She'd been so busy watching Sephiroth on the news she'd forgotten all about karate. So much for the promises she had made, the ones about never being late, always showing up, no matter what. That said, karate was a business between herself and Solomon's father (her karate teacher), not Solomon himself.

"Oh," she said, her voice flat. "I'll call you father and explain myself, so you can go."  
"But are you all r-"

"Yesss," she hissed in a warning tone. Solomon had just walked into her house on his own. He had better not think he could do so without her even talking back.  
"But-"

"Enough!" she interrupted. At that point, Solomon made a half-hearted attempt at making his eyes glint dangerously, but he just couldn't do it. In the background, John Smoth shifted on his T-stand.

_Enough, indeed. _What could she say to keep him away?

"Wait..." she muttered. Solomon's father had once said something about him. What was it? In between praising Solomon as a good son and a good karate student, and even a good man, his father had also mentioned a few times that he had the heart of a child. Apparently his father wanted him to be a little more manly, rather than just gentlemanly. Paige frowned, thinking. Yeah, Solomon was super innocent, and mega-kind, and had ultra-smiles of incomparable brightness. How could she defeat that?

"Guess what, Solomon," she started, an idea building in her mind. "You know Sierra, right? Beautiful, gorgeous school princess?" Slowly, he nodded. He didn't know where she was going with this. But soon he would.

"You still remember when I saved you on our very first school trip, a couple of years back?" Since then, he'd followed her around.

"Yeah, I would've fallen in the river if you weren't there-"

"Then listen to this: You... You've liked me ever since then, right...?" Another nod. It took all her strength to talk about stuff like this. "Well, meanwhile, since _before _that little event, Sierra has liked _you. _She's had eyes for nobody else. Seriously, for feelings like that to last this long, I think it's more than a crush. Especially considering she's the school princess and can have pretty much any boy she wants." _Please don't counter by saying __your_ _feelings too have lasted too long to be a regular crush..._

But her words had a surprising effect.

He looked utterly stupefied. As if he'd never even noticed. He looked so shocked Paige had to rethink what she'd just said.

"She-She likes _me?_" he asked, incredulous.  
"Yes," she said, her guts fluttering with hope. Maybe this was the solution to all her Solomon-related troubles? Or was that too easy?

Solomon blushed, then frowned, thinking hard.

"She's liked you for longer than you've liked me," Paige tried, and his blush deepened. Now he seemed really troubled.  
"I never realized..."

… Just like a river announcing 'Lol, I had no idea there was _water _running in me!' or a cow saying 'Wow! I had no idea the milk's coming from _me!_' or perhaps like hearing a president declare 'Wut? The first lady's in love with me?' or to venture even further, like watching the earth chase after the moon because it hadn't seen the brilliance of the sun just yet.

"Now you know. Next time you see Sierra, look her in the eye and try to read her face or something. She'll blush like crazy. Like you're doing now."

"But I love _you_," announced the blonde. Paige felt like several veins popped in her head. Anger?

"If you love me," she started, gathering her courage and walking around the table, "you better just love me like a sister! _Sis-ter!_" Paige walked straight up to the man, who by the way was much taller than her and thus made her feel smaller and angrier and more scared at the same time.

"Now, _out!_" she declared and turned him around, then started pushing him out.

John Smoth, having been a looker-on all the time, chose that time to speak: "Oh, yeah, baby! Shake it and move it ova' here. Funky!" The bird stepped back and forth on his stand, then deigned the situation worthy enough to half-fly, half-jump all the way over to the kitchen isle. "Funky, groovy. Got ma' _eye_ on ya." It was abnormally satisfying to have him on her side, Paige thought, even if he was a macaw. The parrot squawked on as she shoved Solomon through the entrance door and outside, down the few steps and into the snow. He stumbled, but stayed on his feet.

"Out! And don't return here!" she exclaimed, pointing at him.

"You ma' lady, I'm ya' man," she heard the parrot say from inside. He didn't follow outside, though. It was a miracle if he left the kitchen half of the room he was in, even.

"And next time you even _think _of me, think of Sierra instead! Next time you see her, get a closer look at her, talk with her, hang out with her, or something. I mean it," she finished, then stood still for a few long seconds while pointing at him for good measure. He looked back, eyes wide with mild wonder. _Like a child, _his father had told her. Solomon was still way too gentlemanly to end up with _Paige. _He was made for Sierra. Because of Solomon's excessive kindness (if it could even be called that), Paige would never be able to properly like super-kind guys. Maybe she would end up with some criminal.

A picture of Sephiroth flashed through her mind. Before it could even manifest itself, she mentally slashed and tore at it viciously to avoid blushing. _What the-...?! _Then she pointed some more at Solomon while nearly growling, and turned on her feet and walked inside.

* * *

Sephiroth had flown at breakneck speed all the way back from the White House. That morning, he had talked to the President. It seemed a distant memory already – one that had to do with Shinra. Now he was back in the town he had stayed in for half a year. It seemed the same as always, with hamlets spread across the sloping forests, with mountains on one side and the Columbia River on the other. At the moment the weather was fair, and snow covered everything within his view. Not a plane in sight – nobody had managed to follow him, then.

He landed in front of Paige's house, his boots crunching in the snow. Somewhere along the way he had rid himself of the hood he had used to hide his face – it was most likely on a voyage down the Columbia river right about now. As for the bed sheet in which he'd carried the President, it was still on the roof of the White House. At least Sephiroth still had his Masamune. Just as he was about to turn around and walk inside, he spotted a person walking down the road from Paige's house. The person glanced over his shoulder – just a short glance, not long enough for the man to see Sephiroth. Even at this distance, the man's cheeks were a rather disturbing red.

… Solomon?

What business had he had here?

Watching as Solomon walked out of his sight, Sephiroth felt a rush of disappointment. Paige had almost begged him to save the President, and he had complied, although he had already done her a favor – he had built her a sauna after one of Shinra's fiends destroyed the old building. Yet the first thing he witnessed upon his return was that she was busy with something else entirely – something that had to do with Solomon. Was she under the impression that she could simply use Sephiroth, put him to work? Spin him around her finger like some simpleton or another and make him do whatever she pleased?

Glowering, Sephiroth went inside.

Still wearing his boots and carrying his Masamune, he stepped into the living room.

"Funky!" squawked the parrot, eyeing Sephiroth with one eye. "I'm hot 'cause I'm fy!"

When Paige turned around to see who it was, her face was at first frozen in a deep scowl. The moment she saw it was him, though, and when she saw _his _scowl, her own faded significantly and she seemed utterly lost for a moment. She wasted almost half a minute doing nothing but glance at him and shift, glance at the television screen, then at his Masamune, trying to decide what to do.

Speaking of time...

...she had been wasting rather a lot of it lately. Her limited life span. Had she not the perception to realize she had no such thing as an abundance of time? She should put it to better use – spend it doing something worthwhile before it was too late.

"Err, welcome back. Thanks a lot for helping out the-the President." She frowned at her stumbling words. "It looked pretty unbelievable. And, uh, very impressive, too."

And she owed him for it.

"So now I owe you something," said Paige, needlessly.

If anything, he wanted her to permanently remove her so-called _mask. _As it were, however, it seemed to him the mask was already coming apart at the seams. He could easily tell that Paige looked uneasy, and somewhat impatient, but most of all worried. With her mask already like this, perhaps he could come up with something else later, that she could give him.

"Yes, you do indeed," said Sephiroth, and to his wonder he caught her blushing. A very deep frown followed on her part, but it didn't help any, so she pursed her lips and scowled murderously at something behind him. At lack of anything better to do, she put her thumbs in the pockets of her gray jeans. The lower part of the arms of her too-large shirt pooled around her wrists. That was not what kept his attention, though. The more he looked at her mask-lacking face, the darker her red blush turned, until she all but cringed in his presence.

"Sorry for asking all that of you," she mumbled and dared look him in the eye, frowning deeper now than he had ever seen her frown before. Her eyes were icy blue, in rather unusual contrast to her scarlet flush.

He found it rather fascinating.

Perhaps it was too bad that he would only be able to watch her for a few more months.

"Well, have you made up your mind or what?" she demanded rather angrily.

"...No," he replied.

_Not yet, in any case._

* * *

After school started again, Paige developed a habit of countering everything Solomon said with something,_ anything_, related to Sierra, the school princess. To her joy, it made him blush every time. The few times he tried telling Paige how much he liked her, Paige stopped him abruptly by saying he was only allowed to like her as a sister, or a friend, or even better (and less emotional and less related to personal _bonds_), an _ally_. She continued with this until she had brainwashed herself with the thought that it might be possible to brainwash Solomon into actually _believing_ that Sierra was brainwashed enough to truly and honestly love him from the bottom of her heart.

The only problem so far was her leukemia.

Solomon was so pained with the thought of it that, despite Paige's attempts at brainwashing him, he reverted to his old, Paige-loving self every time he thought of it. Apart from Solomon, other things that continued their good old habit of bothering her included homework, Solomon's fangirls, Solomon's fangirls' allies, Sierra's loyal subordinates (if they could be called that, considering the fact that Sierra herself had actually given Paige a break lately), her own worried family (even though their continued phone calls were understandable), and... Sephiroth. It was simply weird how extremely self-conscious she got every time he glared at her.

It couldn't be helped, though. There was an extremely huge gap between them. He was a man, she was a woman. He was a super-human, she was a super-average-human. He had saved the US President, all she had saved was Solomon. And so on.

* * *

One day, a Saturday a few weeks into the new year, Paige was mercilessly awakened by heavy, pouring rain in the middle of the night. It sounded like thousands upon thousands of cups of water were falling onto the roof – nothing like a few average-sized drops. Still, Paige did her best to sleep a few more hours. She failed miserably. It was a long time since they'd had rain, and a longer time still since they'd had a waterfall like this coming down on them. So far, snow had covered pretty much everything within a radius of ten miles. That would soon come to an end, it appeared, even if it was only January. Slowly, over the course of many hours, the rain ceased and the sun broke through the clouds. Paige couldn't be bothered – as soon as the downpour ceased to normal, light rain, she fell asleep again and slept like a rock. She had a sweet dream in which she made a snow fortress around her home, with walls higher than the roof of her house, and more snowballs than she had ever seen in her life. These, she threw at all the whack-a-mole-Solomons that popped out of the snow outside her fortress. Pure bliss.

Much later, after noon actually, she got up and shuffled downstairs happily. So happily in fact, that she wondered why.

As soon as she remembered Solomon, and her own leukemia, her mood took a painfully abrupt dive. Looking out the kitchen window made it no better – all that was left of the snow was a few white, wet patches. The rest was a muddy brown color, except the wet, dead grass, which was simply a slightly _lighter_ muddy brown color. At least it had stopped raining. And the sun was peeking through the thick layer of gray clouds. Two good things.

When she turned back to the room, she was surprised to see nothing but the chest of a red t-shirt.

Sephiroth?

She stepped back, effectively letting her mask take over all her face. Sephiroth remained where he was, his face unreadable as he raised a hand. In his palm rested a Rubik's cube. The one with 7x7 squares on each side.

It was unsolved, however.

"Haha," she managed, and almost laughed at the impassive sound. It hadn't been on purpose – she was actually sure she had a good, confident bark of a laugh coming, but apparently not.

Next followed a short flash of a scowl on his part, then a small flurry of colors as he started solving the cube. He was working extremely fast, yet his face seemed indifferent, like he was insulted by her mask. He needn't be for long, though – she was so enthralled she was gawking at the Rubik's cube. She didn't know how much time passed, but before she knew it, the thing was solved, her mask was in pieces, and Sephiroth was smirking in a way that made her blush and turn extremely angry at the same time.

Her day was worsening – again.

"I'm going out for some air," she said, wanting her voice to sound indifferent, but it came out as a growl.

Sephiroth gave a chuckle, and she walked out of his way before she turned angrier and her face redder. Why was it that her face turned so red, anyway? Paige scowled viciously by herself. Perhaps it was because of Solomon, since he'd been so gentlemanly and kind and smiling and caring (which she didn't find very compelling after suffering through it for such a long time). Sephiroth was his extreme opposite. And she'd always had a thing for antagonists. It confused her. _That must be the reason._

Once she was outside, standing on the small porch, she breathed in the fresh, cold smell of moist air and earth.

Until she saw something that made her frown very deeply.

Very deeply, indeed.

Something appeared to have happened to the outhouse.

Paige frowned suspiciously at it, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, her head askew – as if any of that could make the sight before her any less (or any more) real. The previously dark, wooden brown, slowly rotting outhouse was smaller than before, and lighter, and it was most definitely not leaning as much to one side as it had done before. The roof was no longer covered with huge, moss-covered slates that threatened to fall in your head every time you passed the building. It all looked positively _new_. For a moment her mind turned into an arcade game machine with three slots. In the first slot, Solomon's face appeared. Her dad's showed up in the second. The third face was Sephiroth's. Surely one of those three had something to do with this? … Solomon wouldn't dare, would he? No, not on her property. It was illegal to do something like that. Sephiroth? Hah. As if he'd do her such a huuuge favor. Her dad, on the other hand, had been talking about fixing the old shack for a long time... To think he'd be this thorough.

Not blinking for a minute, she fished her cellphone from her pocket and dialled her dad's number, then waited. He answered after two rings.

"Hello? Paige? Is-"

"Hey. Did you, or did you not fix the old outhouse in my garden."

Silence for some seconds.

"Paige, I...? What are you talking about? If you want me to fix it, I, well... I know I've been talking about fixing it, right? ... Then, if you want me to, that's the least I can do! We'll starts as soon as possible, how about..." His voice faded as her thoughts rushed. Then, her dad hadn't made this thing? If her mother had made it, she would have told Paige's dad for sure. But Solomon would never build something on her property. Not without permission. That wasn't even legal. Then...

Then, Sephiroth...?

"Uh, no, never mind. Someone's already fixed it, dad. Thanks. I was just wondering if you're the one who did it. I have to hang up now, dad. Call you later, bye," Her voice didn't sound like her own. It was lighter, much lighter. A weird sensation was burning in her stomach. Like somebody was tickling her.

"Sephiroth...?" she said to herself, unbelieving. _He _had built this? Who else – John Smoth? Yeah, right. Not in a bazillion years-

A rustling of leather and tinkling buckles alerted her to Sephiroth's presence by her side, but she couldn't turn around. Her feet were like lead. At the same time, though, they felt extremely light, whereas her head felt like an anvil. Suddenly she felt very cold. And the freaking tickling sensation still lingered in her stomach. She was dizzy and happy and shocked half to death at the same time, then. Soon she wavered, and let her head drop a little.

"You made that thing?" she demanded.

No reply. Only a shift of leather.

"When?" she tried. _Huh._ Did that even matter?

"...A fiend paid a visit around New Year. It broke the building," sounded Sephiroth's low voice. For the first time in months, she found the sound magnificently and elfishly smooth and deep and suspiciously velvety. Just because it didn't sound hostile.

_Goodness. _She was on dangerous ground. _No more thinking of elves. _Even if Sephiroth could use magic and had silver hair.

"So... In other words... I owe you even more than I thought I did." It was a statement – a true one at that.

But Sephiroth didn't confirm. He stood there for a long moment, then turned and walked inside, leaving her gawking at the magnificently new, slightly smaller outhouse. Her curiosity got the best of her in the end, though, so after putting on shoes, she walked up to have a closer look. Right before she opened the door, she was struck by a rather annoying truth: If the old outhouse had been destroyed, so had her precious, useful, ancient, rusty bike. For as long as it had been snowing, she'd had to get up much earlier to _walk _to school (for as long as she had breath left in her body, she would not take the stuffed school bus). Now the snow was gone, but she'd have to continue walking to school. Suddenly her day seemed bad again.

Frowning in a depressed manner, she opened the solid wooden door.

"This..."

Some kind of... steam bath? A sauna...? That's what it looked like.  
A sauna, built by Sephiroth.

_For me_, she added as a smug afterthought. _Or at least for my garden, for him to use._

And then her day turned good again.

* * *

The following week, the rain continued. A number of times Paige tried the sauna. In the beginning she didn't know what to do, how to work the thing, but once she found out how to adjust the warmth, and once she found out where to pour the water, things went better. For some reason she felt a little embarrassed and uneasy every time she used the sauna, as if it wasn't hers, or she shouldn't use it. But... it felt good. Put her mind off things. As more days passed and more rain came pouring down, all the snow was washed away. The rainy period was followed by a few unusually warm days with a clear sky and bright sunlight. Rather than late winter, it felt like late spring.

Of course her school wouldn't pass up on something like that.

It was time for the _second_ of the two compulsory school trips.

This time they weren't going into the woods (or within miles of any deadly _river_), and thank goodness for that. They were going to the old Kisaragi Compound, a collection of Asia-inspired buildings and pagodas not too far from the school. The Kisaragi family, who owned the place, had made newer houses (still Asian, with a few pagodas) somewhere else, and often rented their old quarters to people who wished for an unusual experience. The old Kisaragi Compound was rumored to be stuffed with secret passages, loose tatami mats hiding secret rooms, paper screens that could be hiding passageways to other rooms or buildings, and so on. To add to that, beautiful ponds with koi (white and red fishes) were scattered about (inside the houses, of course, since it was too cold outside in the winter). Each of the shoji paper screens (on the walls and doors) were painted or written on with Japanese script and art, and all the buildings were circled by wooden walkways. A secluded, completely Asian area. Canada was left behind outside the walls and the gate.

The others in Paige's class were running around squealing like kids, and having fun doing it. She didn't mind, as long as they didn't bother her. The others had been running around for hours, searching for secret places, and the sky was already inky black.

After a while they slowly gathered outside, wrapped in their sleeping bags and in the thickest blankets they could find. They all sat on a wooden walkway with buildings at their backs, with a garden in the middle. In the small, closed-in garden they lit a small fire.

Then, true to tradition, they started telling ghost stories.

"Once upon a time..." said a dark-haired one, his voice deep. One of the more popular guys. "...There was a boy." And the girls squealed already. The small fire cast flickering shadows all over the place.

"He was a perfectly normal boy, like any other you might see walking down the street on a normal day. The only difference was that he had really strict parents. Every day, he arrived at school five minutes early. Every day, he did his homework, even if he was sick. Every day, he came home half an hour after school and ate dinner with his parents, and every day – if he went out – he came home by six o'clock," continued Bray, which was his name. "This continued for years, throughout primary and secondary school, and all the way to high school. The boy sometimes entertained the thought of staying out late, but didn't dare to. His parents were too strict."

The others looked at him, waiting for the tale to get scary.

"But then, one day, he didn't get home in time." Bray glanced around, enjoying himself. "The clock turned seven, then eight... When he finally got home, at eleven o'clock, all the lights were out. There was no sign of his parents anywhere." The others' attention was fixed on Bray.

"Without a sound he walked up the stairs, slowly, step by step... And halfway up, he spotted something _red_ on one of the steps." Silent gasps. Paige tried to pretend she was unimpressed, but Bray had skills with storytelling. "And on the next step, too, and on the next..." Bray's face turned dark as he gave a sinister, evil grin.

"And on the top of the stairs..." he said, his voice barely audible, "lay a blood orange." His face lost all malevolence and turned friendly, expectant. Playful.

It took some time for some of the others to realize what he'd meant, and once they did, all their fear vanished without a trace, and they laughed good-heartedly. More stories followed, some scary, others funny, a few from real life. At some point they even shared opinions about Sephiroth's recent President rescuing. Although Sephiroth was there with them (silent throughout it all), they didn't even have a clue it was _him _who'd done it. Too low on imagination, perhaps. Paige, listening to praise, found herself getting proud on Sephiroth's behalf.

* * *

Why had she agreed to this, again? Hide and seek, _blah_. She was so tired she was two hundred percent sure she'd fall asleep within one minute. She'd found a secret room to hide in, without holes she could peek out, and practically without light, too. For the last five minutes people had been running back and forth past her hiding place, without even stopping. It was a neat, roomy storage room, full of flat tatami floor pillows. In other words, way too comfy to hide in for long. But despite the comfiness, she was feeling gloomy. Hearing the others laugh so heartily was oddly depressing. It made her a little jealous, even, so she ended up pouting and sulking by herself childishly.

Knowing you didn't have a whole lot of time left could do that to you.

"Death." The word came out sounding really grumpy, like she'd said _blah_. An annoying thing, death. At a distance she could brush it off and laugh it in the face, but as it came closer it looked worse and worse. Now it seemed close enough for her to touch, and she wasn't laughing any more. Not that she had been before – but she _had _tried to brush it off. What did she want, though, before she died? Her family had offered to go on vacation with her, to some place she wanted, and one weekend they had visited her and brought tons of expensive, foreign food. What was it, again? Chocolate from Switzerland, Norwegian salmon, Russian caviar, clam scallops and so on, even. What had her dad said? "If you're not going to the countries, some of the countries can be brought to you, right?" His smile wasn't so broad after a few hours, once his stomach started complaining.

Paige snorted, smiling at the memory.

"Something amusing?"

Paige's smile froze.

* * *

R.R.

please review


	18. Revelations

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

_Sooo_ sorry for being late, I had to help very many old ladies over the road!

* * *

Revelations

* * *

_Um... _

"_Something amusing?" Was that what the voice had just said?_

Paige sat utterly still on her pile of flat tatami pillows in the dark room. Suddenly she felt extremely self-conscious – she was only wearing pajamas. That voice; dark, smooth, low, velvety, and not quite as amused as she had felt moments ago. Sephiroth. _No doubt about it._ Paige's mouth was a narrow line now, and the rest of her face was probably twitching. And she was blushing. Dang it, why was she blushing _now? _She had to get herself together. This room was very dark and very small, and very full of very many pillows, and somewhere near her there was a very handsome, very dangerous ex-general. Or teacher. By the way he was not an elf, she uselessly added to herself. Paige gritted her teeth in frustration. Why was he here? Was he playing hide-and-seek, or was he avoiding the people who played it? The latter, probably. But why did he hide _here_, when she was here? ...Wait a minute. Maybe he was here first. That meant he had heard her mutter things to herself. She'd said the word "death" aloud and snorted at it. What had Sephiroth made of that?

"Uh, no, nothing amusing," she replied, muttering without looking his way.

"About death?"

_Well, yes. That's right._

Speaking of which... Because of her leukemia, she'd said some things to Sephiroth that were a bit embarrassing, such as... Well, she'd told him that her dream was to become a bodyguard, for one. That was an embarrassing thing to admit. And her family were against it. Thinking back, she didn't _have _to become a bodyguard. She could become a stuntwoman, for instance. Those two jobs were somewhat alike. Paige almost snorted at herself one more time. She _could have become _a stuntwoman. No time for that now, though, not with her death approaching. _And then Sephiroth could have been the main actor,_ a voice in her mind added. At that, she frowned deeply, suspicious of herself. Come to think of it, could Sephiroth see her face, even though it was as dark as night?

Most likely.

"Yeah," she mumbled, blushing – and getting angry because of it. What was the question again?

Hearing Sephiroth shift nearby, she warily shuffled away while squinting into the darkness. The only source of light came from the way she'd come in: a removable paper door, or shoji screen. The light barely filtered through it.

* * *

Sephiroth searched the outline that was her silhouette. He could make out her face, suspicious and wary. And, from the looks of it, dismayed that he was there as well. The shade on her cheeks was darker than usual. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at the paper screen as he heard somebody run past it, followed by a few others. He had come here first – to avoid being pestered by students who wanted him to join their games. Returning to the situation at hand, he searched Paige's profile.

"Then, I take it you are worried about death?"

She turned sharply to him. He couldn't see her face properly; with the light at her back, her face was black as ink. She probably couldn't see him at all.

"No. Of _course _not," she claimed boastfully, surprising him for a moment.

_An act?_

She was acting to make her death seem less imposing? Sephiroth frowned darkly at the idea. She considered her time so worthless she would spend it mocking death?

… _Foolish._

"Instead of mocking death, wouldn't it be better for you to do something more worthwhile?" said Sephiroth in an even voice. But inside him, an uncomfortable warmth spread like slow poison. Anger, perhaps at her carelessness, or maybe because he even bothered talking about this to her.

* * *

"Worthwhile?" she asked, suspicious.

Like what? Running across particularly flowery meadowa, or along sandy, sunny beaches in slow motion, while thinking happy thoughts and listening to pan-flute music? The thought made her chuckle. A really unhappy, scoffing chuckle.

… Apparently Sephiroth didn't like her mocking tone.

_At all_, by the looks of it.

She heard Sephiroth shift, and before she could blink, strong hands gripped her upper arms and pressed her down into the pillows. Hovering over her, Sephiroth stared down at her no doubt mortified face. Instinctively she pulled her hands up and tried pushing him off. A familiar feeling –

_Personal space invasion._

"What're you _doing-_" she managed, her heart in her throat. Sephiroth released one of her arms and moved his hand to her face and pressed it down on her mouth. Wide-eyed, confused and frightened, she looked up, but his features were drowned in shadows. She couldn't see his face, much less read it. Even with one arm free, she couldn't push him away – not an inch. Frowning, she thought of things to do – should she kick him? Pull his hair? Bite his hand? ...All of those would make things much worse, no doubt. Why did he do this? Paige stared at the place where she thought his eyes were, her body tense, her free arm still pushing feebly at the hand he had over her mouth.

* * *

Sephiroth watched as Paige struggled, felt the pulse in her wrist, her breath on his hand and her warm mouth under it, her red cheeks... And her eyes, changing every second, from shocked to frightened, to furious, to confused, to frightened again. Somehow – against all his reason – it made his chest cringe.

_No._

What was he doing?

Frowning, he thought of what had gone through his mind moments before. Watching her blush like that, not only today, but more and more frequently recently, he knew there were reasons. To him, the reason behind the change of her behavior had seemed obvious. For one thing, since she disliked Solomon so, and Sephiroth himself was practically his complete opposite when it came to the matter of personality, himself having an effect on Paige was inevitable. That still didn't explain what _he_ felt. And what was he doing right now? Could he venture as far as to call it a helpful action? If she did indeed have a sort of interest in him, did she truly want to die quietly without...

Sephiroth gave a black scowl.

… He could by no means claim that what he was about to do would help her, in any way.

He was born and raised with himself, and only himself, as the center of his life. Because it had been taught to him from the moment he was able to learn at all, it was simply in his nature to think of what was to his own advantage first. As a consequence, the current situation... Sephiroth felt his eyes darken. No matter how one chose to perceive the situation, he was being selfish. Slowly, over the course of more than half a year, she had lured her way closer to him, closer by far than he liked – the mere thought of it made him sneer. He should have pushed her away and left long ago. Yet, knowing she didn't have much time, he had chosen to stay. She would disappear in the end in any case, and when that happened, he was free to go. Once that time came, he would never again allow himself to feel, nor even consider thinking about matters such as these. Before that, though, he...

He could allow himself this deviation. He could allow himself this selfishness.

Before she died.

If…

… If that was what she wanted.

* * *

Paige stared, breathless, as Sephiroth removed both his hands from her. She held her hands up in front of her as some sort of makeshift shield, unsure what to do. With one hand on each side of her, and his silver locks close to her face, Sephiroth did nothing but wait. He didn't move an inch.

If she wanted, could... could she... pull away?

She cleared her voice feebly and immediately frowned at the weak sound.

Then she slowly pulled herself up, and just as slowly, he withdrew a little. Their faces were close. She still couldn't guess what he was thinking. For a second she thought she caught a glimpse of his eyes in the dark shadows on his face, but that could be a trick of the light, or simply her deluding herself. Soon she was sitting in front of him, watching his broad-shouldered silhouette – the paper screen behind him barely let through any light. Now she was at loss of what to do. He had let her go. The reason behind that was just as unknown to her as the reason he'd held her down in the first place. Had he done it just because he was angry at what she'd said? What was she supposed to do now? Swallowing, she glanced around.

To tell the truth, she was eternally grateful he'd pulled away.

Even though she liked him. A little. Him pulling away made him different from Solomon.

Then he moved closer, and she stiffened and held her breath. He stopped, his face hidden in darkness like before. It took her a moment to realize what he _might_ be requesting of her, and once she realized, her mind erupted with a million bazillion "Don't Panic!" signs, which naturally made her panic even more. Her face was definitely flushed, like a tomato field where all the tomatoes spontaneously combusted at the mention of something even remotely related to romance. And even so... Even so... Paige moved sideways, and a little forward. Sephiroth turned a little – just enough for her to see one of his eyes. Even like this his face was unreadable. She kept moving sideways until she saw half his face in the light.

Was he playing with her?

Just fooling around?

Paige frowned, turning sad, then angry. And what then? She was going to die soon. Even if he was fooling around, she would probably die before he got a chance to tell her so. And even if he _did _have enough time to tell her he was fooling around, that didn't matter either, since she was going to be dead within a few months anyway. Because of Solomon, her school life hadn't included any boyfriends – Solomon had been too possessive in his own overly friendly kind of way. The last time she'd had a boyfriend was in kindergarten, and it had lasted for five minutes. But ___this_ was _not_ kindergarten.

Their eyes were locked – his jade, hers ice.

The second she blinked, she was pinned to the wall, with Sephiroth's weight and strength against her, and his mouth pressing down on hers. His hands were on the wall beside her, his wrists touching her shoulders, some of his silver forelocks touching her cheeks. Then he pulled away. Watching her intently, he put his forehead on hers. For just a moment there was something unfamiliar about his single visible eye. Then it was gone, and all he seemed to do was measure her reaction, her face. However strange it seemed, she felt her mouth pull up in a tiny smile. A barely noticeable one, but nonetheless one she couldn't wipe off her face. Embarrassed, she glanced away, frowning. Her smile was so tiny only a person like Sephiroth would see it. Inside her head, though, her common sense was busy hounding a ridiculously huge horde of mental smiles and grins. Good thing those didn't make their way to the surface.

… If Sephiroth were simply playing with her, he wouldn't have stopped with just a kiss, right? ...Or did he stop now because he'd anticipated that she would think like that? Seeing her faint smile give way to a look of suspicion, Sephiroth gave the faintest of chuckles.

Then he pulled back. Only a second later, a few people ran past the paper screen she and Sephiroth hid behind.

"Hey...! Wait, I think I saw something!" Paige's blood went cold. Solomon's voice.

When she turned to Sephiroth, he was already cloaked in the darkness, and before she could even think of following, hands were probing at the 'door' to their hiding place. "I knew there was something off about that screen," said Solomon (and she could tell from the way he talked he was smiling, as usual). She heard the others jog over to him as he pushed open the paper screen. Inside, Paige sat staring like a mortified sheep.

"Pa-... Paige?" exclaimed Solomon.

Paige felt her mouth twitch. Her eyes glanced in the direction of Sephiroth, a wordless plea, or maybe a warning of payback. But to no avail. Solomon and his friends took her with them to the others, away from Sephiroth.

* * *

After spending the night at the old Kisaragi compound, they returned to the school. The trip had been a success, apparently. The others were already briefing their friends from other grades about it. As for the situation between Sephiroth and Paige once they returned to her house, things weren't really awkward or anything of the sort. Sephiroth was simply quiet, and the only thing that had changed about Paige was that she glanced at him more often. She felt more safe back home than in the Kisaragi place, too. And having John Smoth nearby was all right. What she hadn't expected, though, was that somebody else was waiting for them.

Her mother, Angela, with her shoulder-length hair and comely clothes, stood in the door when they arrived. Paige dropped her bag to the ground, trying to think if she'd seen a car around the house. She hadn't.

"Hello, Paige," said her mother while embracing her. "Your dad drove me here this morning. How are you?" she asked, pulling away – and looking into Paige's icy eyes with all her full-power-ultimate-deluxe motherly affection. It gave her a feeling similar to the feeling she got every time she hurt herself and was asked 'Are you all right?'. That kind of question always made her tears roll, regardless of her condition. And now she wanted to tell her mum she was all right (which was true, actually), but her throat was so tight she couldn't make a sound. So she just flashed a smile and nodded.

After brief, practically wordless introductions, the three of them went inside.

"I just thought I'd drop by with some food. Your dad will be here soon to pick me up," said Angela. Sephiroth looked like he was just about to leave the room. Before he got that far, though, John Smoth gave a squawk and spoke up:

"Hojo. Hojo."

Paige looked at him with faint confusion. Hojo? What was Hojo? But Sephiroth – and even Paige's mum – turned sharply to the macaw and stared. John Smoth turned his head and looked at them with one eye while stepping sideways on his stand.

"Hojo...?" muttered Sephiroth, and Angela turned to him in wonder.  
"What is Hojo?" asked Paige. Something to do with hip-hop? She was feeling left out.

"Hojo," said John Smoth again, rustling his feathers vigorously. "Professor."

* * *

Sephiroth scowled darkly at the bird. Had he ever, even once, uttered the words _professor_ _Hojo _aloud in front of John Smoth? What was more, Paige's mother reacted strangely. He would say she too knew of the professor – if only to a small degree.

"Hojo is... John Smoth's first owner, I think. Though, I don't know if he's a professor or not," said Angela thoughtfully. She seemed honest enough. Then again, she could be a good actress.

"Professor!" said John Smoth, flapping his wings a little. "Hojo."

"First owner?" asked Paige, narrowing her eyes. "Are you his second owner, then, mum?" She appeared to know nothing of this. Sephiroth frowned, trying to make sense of it.  
"No, hardly!" said Angela cheerfully. "He was given to me by some people who travelled here from Russia. They wouldn't keep him."

_Russia...?_

"Do you know where in Russia?" asked Sephiroth, and Angela seemed startled for a moment.  
"Well, in the north, maybe, or north-east, possibly...? I think Paige already met one member of the gang that brought John Smoth here. Cloud Strife, the one doing delivery service? Remember?"

Paige's face was a stone mask. "...Who?"

_Cloud Strife...? The name was certainly familiar, although Sephiroth could not quite recall where he had heard it. Maybe one of the Soldiers, or of Shinra's employees. In any case, __Russia, Hojo_ and _professor_ were words that – when put together like this – could not be a coincidence.

"He... He drove Bell here for me, once," tried Angela, looking at he daughter. Slowly, realization dawned on Paige.

"Ah! Motorcycle! That was him? Then... The motorcycle guy and his friends brought John Smoth with them from Russia? What were they doing there, then? The motorcycle guys." What was with the word motorcycle that made her say it so many times?

"Mo-tor-cy-cle, yeah," rapped John Smoth silently.

Angela frowned in concentration.

"I don't know what they were doing there, exactly, but... I think... I think they saved a friend of theirs from something, or someone," said Angela uncertainly. Sephiroth found her words easy to believe – if the people she spoke of had saved a person who had been experimented on, just one person, who may or may not become an important part of Hojo's experimentations later or, then they were right to have run this far. If they hadn't, Shinra would already have found them. Though, to simply get away from Shinra required skills. To _remain _hidden took even more effort. Sephiroth had come here by using a half-broken materia. It had brought him here, and until now he had thought it was a coincidence. Yet, now that he thought of it, perhaps the broken materia had simply teleported him to the largest concentration of magical power it could find (leaving out Shinra's store rooms filled to the core with materia, of course). Then, could he assume these persons could use magic, like himself? It was a possibility.

"Hojo!" screamed John Smoth, with rustled feathers and spread wings, and Angela jumped. Paige, on the other hand, was so surprised she initiated a counterattack – a pointing, jabbing finger and a murderous stare. The parrot shifted on his T-stand and kept talking. "Takin' chances. You' my lady, I'm ya' man."

"_Who's _your _what?_" retorted Paige.

"Got my _eye _on ya," said the bird. "Ass so fat you can see it from the front, yo."

"...What's that? _Where _did _you_ learn _that?_" Paige was slowly building an illusion before them, of herself beginning to boil with rage and smoke, with a rather unnerving reality to it. Her ice-blue eyes were as close as possible to start sending rays at the rapping bird. Finally noticing, the bird rustled its feathers again and stepped further away on its T-stand. "Was it my brother? _Eh?_ Was it?" It was rather amusing.

"Um, Paige, I can hear Aaron coming now," interrupted Angela. And surely enough, the sound – or rather loud noise – of a car engine approached. Judging by the ruckus, Sephiroth guessed it was the old family van. Paige's father Aaron should consider doing something about it.

"My name's shutup, what's yours?" said John Smoth.

In any case, it would appear Hojo was already forgotten.

* * *

Paige thought all she had to do now was to see her mum off, but apparently not. Her dad came stomping up the road to greet them with all his might (which was only a tiny little, if one did not count his vigorously bobbing moustache, which sort of made up for it). Sephiroth remained inside. Perhaps to listen to John Smoth say 'Hojo' again. Whoever Hojo was. In any case, after the brief reunion, her dad walked on past them, past the house, and up towards Paige's new sauna. How could she have forgotten? She had told her dad about it over the phone not long ago – or more specifically, she had asked if _he _was the one who'd built it. She and her mother followed and joined him as he inspected the building. After a while he deigned the building 'worthy of resting upon the ground of the garden of her house'.

Then he went inside to talk to Sephiroth (another fatherly instinct – perhaps he wanted to make sure Paige was doing all right, or some such). But Sephiroth was gone. After dragging the visit out a little while longer, they left. Paige waited until they were out of sight before heading back inside.

"Yo," saluted John Smoth.

"Yo," replied Paige without looking at the bird – their argument not so long ago was already forgotten. Had Sephiroth gone somewhere? "Sephiroth?"

"...Yo," repeated the parrot, and Paige spun around to see who he was talking to. And, sure enough, Sephiroth was the man whose chest her eyes were greeted with. His red t-shirt and black zip-up jacket were close enough for her to smell them.

Unexpectedly, a heavy hand was put on her head. As Sephiroth turned away, his hand slid down on her shoulder and left her. He'd taken her by surprise, so she hadn't seen his face. For a second she almost asked _'What is it?'_ But then she thought better of it. He wasn't very likely to talk about it. Looking down, Paige frowned grumpily. What if _she _wanted to talk? Could she ask him to listen to her, or answer questions? Even if she could, he might not answer. And besides, what was there for her to ask for? _'Yo. I don't wanna die. Comfort me, yo.' _Paige's face turned stiff, and she gave a breath-like laugh. A familiar pattern of action was triggered in her mind, and she automatically walked to the refrigerator and found herself a glass of milk. For as long as there was cold milk in the glass, she clung to it like a ship-wrecked sailor might cling to a life buoy.

Obviously, the only reason Sephiroth offered even a shred of sympathy or compassion was because she would die soon. It was some sort of last favor. Once she was gone from this world, he would forget her.

* * *

_Once she is dead, I will forget her._

Sephiroth repeated the sentence in his mind as he watched Paige, his eyes lingering. She was a part of a phase of his life. One that he would be able to forget. Her existence and the thoughts she made him think were things he was given to taste, very briefly, just so that he would not need something like it again in the future. Paige was a distraction, a deviation from his usual interests; a way to pass time. Soon, as soon as she died, he would handle Shinra, and everyone who had to do with Shinra, and everything that was even remotely related to Shinra. That way nobody would step in his way again. Therefore, once Paige died, he _would_ make himself forget her.

_But until that time..._

Even it it was only like this, watching from the corner of an eye, he would let himself treasure her.

* * *

"...Is everything in place?"

Hojo's voice carried through the large room and created an echo of voices just as impatient as their source. Faces glanced up, then their attention went back to the machine they had finished assembling only minutes ago. Professor Hojo took their silence as a yes and slowly walked closer. His lab coat offered no warmth whatsoever in the cold room, but this place was the only one large enough for the odd invention before him – and now that it was ready, he would by no means let low temperature keep him from putting it to use. Oh, how he would enjoy it! This was his way to find Sephiroth, no matter where he was, and even if he were to slip out of their grasp again, the machine would find him.

"Then start the search," he demanded, watching as lights flashed and the engines started running. Soon enough, the nifty little gadget would locate all areas on the surface of the planet with an excess of magic or magic energy close to it. Such as materia, or people capable of using it.

* * *

Paige trod heavily into the living room, her hair wet from taking a shower after the extraordinarily hard karate training.

She hadn't been alone with her teacher (Solomon's father) this time. This time Solomon had deigned it crucial for himself to come train, too. Paige had given it her very best from the beginning 'till the end. Solomon would definitely have bruises tomorrow. But having worked that hard without stopping, Paige was dead tired. Too tired. Maybe her anemia was kicking in. Or her leukemia? Could leukemia make her feel like this? In any case, although it wasn't that late, she was going to call it a day and go to bed. Then _maybe _she would wake up tomorrow morning in time for school.

"Sephi-"

_Ring-_

"Gah...!"

_Ring- _

Paige frowned darkly at the ringing phone, then picked it up. "Hello?" she half growled, turning around. Sephiroth was sitting in the sofa, watching the news. He looked up briefly, and their eyes met.

"_Eh? Who's this?_" asked the voice. A bit rough, very impatient-sounding... Sephiroth returned his attention to the news. "..._Hey!_" the man in the phone continued. She blinked. "_Answer, dammit!_"  
"Paige. It's Paige." She had a vague idea who it might be.

"_Then _answer!_ Wasting my time, dangit..._" Wasting _his _time? "_Get down to my office, will ya?_" At that, Paige's heart sunk like a rock. Then she turned annoyed. He wasn't going to insult her.  
"I'm not going anywhere. If I'm gonna die one month ahead of time or something like that, tell me on the phone." Becoming self-conscious, she turned away from Sephiroth.

He wasn't watching the news anymore.

"_**%$#&$*&^%^**! I'm **&#%&T$*^%$** gonna give you **&$#&%*%&%#** news, so you had __better **^%*&$x#*%** listen the heck up!_" Paige held the phone away from her ear, mildly shocked. Had Sephiroth heard that? But wait a minute, how could doctor Cid even talk to her like this? It _hurt!_

"What..." she started, not knowing what to say.

"_Sit your ass down somewhere!_"

Paige glanced over her shoulder at the two-seat and three-seat sofa (Sephiroth sat in the latter). Then she turned to the kitchen area of the room and sat down on a stool by the kitchen isle, with her back to Sephiroth and John Smoth, and finally cleared her voice.

"I'm seated." What was he going to say? _'You should have died one month ago', _or something along those lines? She grimaced, feeling sick.

"Hojo," said John Smoth. Paige sent him a particularly dark scowl over her shoulder.

"_All right. Here's the deal. I mixed up some papers this autumn, yours among 'em._" Slowly, something started churning in her stomach, and she clenched her teeth. _Way to go, _giving her a tiny little ray of _hope_. She frowned weakly. More hope meant more despair once it was time to go, most likely. Or so she guessed.

"_Thing is, y__ou ain't got leukemia._"

* * *

**R.R. **

(So late... Sorry... Next chapter's coming sooner, and then you'll find out how Paige reacts.)


	19. Exit

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.

(-fidgets-)

I'm supah-late! Again! Sorry! This time I'm gonna blame it on Fairy Tail (manga), Kekkaishi (another manga), snow fortresses (orly?), school and (_-cough-_) a mega-ultimate-super-scary-boss writer's block. (If I'm late _again_, you have to yell at me, bother me and threaten me. It's for my best.)

* * *

Exit

* * *

"…_Hey, you there, woman?_" asked Cid over the phone.

…

Err.

"_I said you ain't got leukemia, dammit!_"

…

_Error._

No. No?

Shock?

"_I hafta spell it out for you? You ain't gonna die, dammit! So __**$%#&$*&**__ say something!_"

...A-

Paige stared ahead of her. She could only imagine how her face looked right now. Probably extraordinary in some way or another, because John Smoth took flight and landed on top of the nearest shelf. And in the corner of an eye, she could see Sephiroth getting to his feet slowly.

Anger...?

…_Anger._

* * *

Sephiroth watched Paige with mild wonder. She was talking to her doctor, there was no doubt about it. That said, there was no telling what he had said. Paige was clutching the phone so tightly he could hear her press down its buttons. Her jaw was set and her frown was deep, and her eyes were hard as stone. She was starting to pull her mouth into a lopsided, unfriendly smile.

"You..." she muttered. "_You_..." Her voice was almost an octave lower than usual. Sephiroth arched a brow, suspicious. "I have no words..." she continued in an undertone. She was grinning rather unnervingly.

Not that he minded. Although it would have suited him better if he knew the cause.

* * *

Paige's mind was spinning and swirling, her thoughts screaming, her guts rolling about as she tried to process Cid's message. Her leukemia had turned into some sort of a not-so-deadly-at-all joke. She would have laughed if _she_ herself hadn't been the half-baked punch line. Oh, how many things she wanted to say to Cid! But it seemed impossible like this, via the phone, without his face in front of her. She needed to vent! _Vent!_ There was really just one thing she could do.

Pay the man a visit.

"_Hold on to that thought,_" she muttered, her voice alien even to herself, sounding ghostly and cruel and I-want-revenge-ish. Then she hung up.

Keeping her thoughts fixed on what she wanted to say to the man, she loomed to her feet and went out of the room, stepped into her shoes and stormed outside, ignoring John Smoth as he squawked _'What the fawk's goin' on?' _She walked on, fast, not decreasing her speed. All the while she muttered and chanted, frowned and scowled occasionally at her own marching feet. It was late, already dark outside, and the sky was weighed down by heavy, bulky, yet barely visible clouds. With a strange mix of anger, relief and embarrassment she thought of her 'leukemia', never once letting her thoughts stray to something else. When she finally got to doctor Cid Highwind's office, she didn't even knock. With no less force than a tanks might drive down a wall, she slammed open the door and stomped inside. From there she kept walking and opened door by door, until she found Cid. He was sitting in his chair with a cigar between his teeth, frowning at her almost as strongly as she was glowering at him.

It took some time for him to get up, and when he finally did, he didn't even greet her.

"'The heck're you doing, waltzing in like you live here?! Who d' you think y'are, dammit?" he demanded. Paige showed him a fist and glared even more furiously at him, if that was possible.

"You will listen to what I have to say, or I will kill you with this fist. That is who I am," she replied.

Cid Highwind didn't like the sound of that. It didn't scare him, of course, but he didn't like it any better for that. Perhaps he thought she should be super-happy for the news of her leukemia being fake. Maybe she should.

"You angry?" he asked, his cigar moving as he spoke.

"I'm _not angry!_ Gah, just listen! _Listen!_" Judging by his face, he wasn't the least bit amused, or convinced by her words, for that matter. His eyes were saying _'Women, dammit,'_ and his mouth pretty much spelled _'Makes my cigar taste bad.'_

"All right..." she said, taking a deep breath to calm down. "Do you have any idea how much pain you've made me go through? Ever since the day you said I had leukemia, I've spent my time counting down to my own _death!_ I had to tell my family I was going to die, and there really isn't anything worse you can do to your family than that! I've been given gifts that I feel I have to return! My dad spent who-knows-how-much on exotic food because I would never be able to go to any countries before my death! At school a certain somebody who I'd usually stay very far away from made me cry like a baby! It was _humiliating!_ That guy still thinks I'm gonna die! As for school, I haven't put in enough effort in any of the tests! In other words you've made my grades drop! It's lucky that I'm even going to school at all right now – what if I had quit altogether?!" she said breathlessly, her face red and angry. "And now I have to face everybody I know and tell them I'm gonna live! They're gonna think I pulled this trick on purpose! This half year will turn into a huge joke that everybody except me will laugh at until the day I really _do _die!"

Cid was completely unimpressed, and bored, by the look on his face.

And perhaps a bit annoyed. Paige, on the other hand, carried a striking resemblance to an erupting volcano. Her voice could pass for a hurricane. With eyes of stone and a face like a furious animal, Paige stared at Cid, who watched with indignation and growing unease. Her rage continued undisturbed, coming off her in waves that almost rippled the air. _Almost. _Or so it felt, when she gave him that black look. He didn't know what to make of it.

"I ain't sayin' sorry, dammit," he stated, looking down his cigar at her.

"Huh?! _**%$#&$*^**_! I'm _**&#%&T$%$**_ gonna give you a _**&$#&*%&%#**_ lesson you won't soon forget, unless you _**^%*&$x#*%**_ apologize! _**#$*^**__**¥¿˟ᶋᵿ‡•₤₡₪₰₪₴∞ ɸ×§#**_...!" she retorted. Half of it was just what Cid had said to her earlier. The other half he would have to remember. It was an impressive string of offenses, all right, insulting about everything and everyone from his grandmother and mother to his arse and very own crown jewels. Something to remember for a later occasion.

"You're gonna live, though," said Cid calmly, stating the obvious while taking his cigar out of his mouth.

And with that, Paige's wrath came to an abrupt stop, like a balloon losing its air, only without the noise. Her expression faded to a gray mask as she sunk onto the closest chair. Letting her arms fall to Cid's desk, she leaned forward and gave a long, weary sigh, her face buried in the arms of her sweater. All energy had left her.

* * *

Half an hour.

For half an hour, she had been in there.

Sephiroth had followed her to see if he could find a reason behind her rushed escape. So far, however, all he had done was wait. He had no business inside. If he were to speculate about Paige's current situation, however, he would guess she had received bad news. Frowning slightly, he shifted his feet, dry gravel crunching beneath his boots. He was wearing his own clothes today. All the worse if somebody saw him. It was a good thing it was dark outside.

Eventually the door opened and Paige stumbled out. If she saw him, she displayed no sign of it. Slowly she shuffled closer, until they were a short stride apart. There she came to a reluctant stop. She looked quite as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders – her eyes were dull and watery, her face blank, her shoulders hunched. She seemed paralyzed, beaten. Letting her head drop, she sighed and – to his surprise – bumped him in the chest with her head. The head-butt was weak, but then he doubted she had intended it to be strong in the first place. The two of them stood still like that, Sephiroth looking down at the back of her pale hair, Paige's forehead resting against him. His thoughts wandered to what might be the reason behind her sullenness, and from his point of view, there was only one thing that seemed a logical cause.

Maybe her doctor had told her just how long she had left.

Perhaps the estimated time of her death had even passed.

Slowly, he placed a hand on her head. When there was no reaction, he averted his eyes and looked straight ahead, his eyes cold.

_A last favour._

His eyes flickered.

_For the dying._

* * *

Paige's breath hitched in her throat. _Don't cry, _she thought. _Don't cry or anything. No matter what. I should be happy right now. _Unaware of her inner turmoil, Sephiroth continued to stay still. In a way, despite everything that was going on, it comforted her that he didn't withdraw.

Without hurrying, he let his hand slide down from her head to her neck. There it rested for a long moment, until Paige decided to glance up. The last stride between them closed as he wrapped his arms around her in a deliberate embrace. Paige shut her eyes and rested her head below his collarbone – his heart thumped slowly in his chest, barely noticeable. She had trouble guessing how his face might look. Maybe wondering, or perhaps a tiny bit sad. Or completely unreadable, with eyes staring ahead. Last summer, after she found him in the forest, he had scowled so viciously at her that she had thought of his eyes as weapons. He was probably still like that, to a lot of other people.

Maybe he had thawed a little. In front of her, anyway.

With no warning, Sephiroth's hold around her tightened and he bent down a fraction. Her breath caught as he leapt up into the air and lunged forwards, striding on currents of wind. Grabbing handfuls of his black coat, she held tight and shut her eyes, feeling the wind dig into her back. It was already completely dark outside. Even if she turned her head, she wouldn't see a thing below – except for the tiny lights in the windows, maybe. For some seconds, Sephiroth increased his speed so much she could hardly even breathe. Wind surged past her ears, growing louder and louder.

Carefully, she opened her eyes a fraction and cast a glance around.

At first, she didn't understand where they were, or what it was they were seeing. When she looked around, though, realization came upon her. Below them – rushing past them at unbelievable speed – was a bulky, white and gray landscape of jagged, soft clouds. Up above, the moon was sitting still in the black heavens, big and white, minding its own business. The view didn't last, though. Sephiroth was flying so fast the wind stung her eyes, so she had to shut them tight. Together they raced forward, and before she could gather herself, they plummeted down again – through the icy clouds. Once more Paige shut her eyes and waited until they stopped (even if this wasn't her first time flying with him, it was still an eye-popping experience). This time Sephiroth landed on the ground – right by her house. _So fast, _Paige found herself thinking as she took in the view of the grass- and bush-covered garden. Absurdly, she caught herself making a mental note to mow the overgrown grass sometime soon. Then she remembered her all too embarrassingly fake leukemia.

Before she knew it, her grip on the front of Sephiroth's coat loosened and she let go of him, her head slumping down. A sigh left her that gave her the shivers, a sigh so deep and rattling it might as well have been the wail of a dying man. She felt miserable. Why did she feel miserable...? She should feel better than this. Especially after a flying trip like that.

"Here," said Sephiroth, distracting her. "Pay attention."

She turned to him only briefly, but meekly looked away before seeing his face. The garden lay before and around them, cluttered with bushes and trees that were too large, and grass that was too tall, and rocks she had yet to move out of the way. Then, all of a sudden, Sephiroth swung out his arm, and with it a searing, orange flame spread out and broke the darkness. It scorched the entire garden all around them in the span of seconds, travelling dangerously close to her house and the nearly new sauna. She stared, utterly flabbergasted. As soon as the blazes went out and disappeared, Sephiroth let flow a stream of ice. The moment the ice settled across the burnt grass, covering it, he let the cold crystals shatter and melt to water, effectively soaking the charred grass. Paige gawked at the magic. _So much for mowing the lawn. _The bushes, trees and the grass couldn't exactly boast at their size, or height, at the moment_. _She kept on staring, his magic having shocked her out of her stupor-of-lack-of-energy-and-willpower, certain that Sephiroth would soon scowl murderously at her and bitterly speak the words _"Did I not say... pay attention?"_

But he didn't. Before she saw his expression, he stooped and caught her off guard with a kiss. A strong hand spread on her back and he pressed her closer to him. She didn't struggle, didn't pull back, didn't even breathe. Then, just when she got her bearings, she lost them again. Her feet lost contact with the ground, and a second after, her back hit the burned dirt. At the same time a weight knocked the breath out of her. In the faint light from the windows of her house, she looked into the emerald eyes of the elf-prince-who-was-not-an-elf-prince.

Then she panicked.

Of course, she wouldn't let such a thing show, so her face stiffened into a mask. A sudden, unexpected personal space invasion like this was just asking for trouble, even though she liked Sephiroth more than what was healthy. And her mask was the only skill she had, however meagre its effects were. That said, it had quite the opposite effect of what she'd bargained for.

He was grinning down at her now.

Her mask left her face as fast as the air might leave a gunned-down balloon. Sephiroth found her hands and held them down as he let more of his weight fall on her. By now, she probably looked so shocked Sephiroth would start wondering if she was still conscious. That was, at least, how she felt – utterly paralyzed. Then his burning jade orbs and his lopsided smirk went out of her view, to her neck. Her head was spinning, whirling. She made a half-hearted attempt at freeing her hands, but apparently her entire body had turned into something vaguely similar to jelly on crack, because all she could do was tremble. Pushing her down while his mouth traced her neck, Sephiroth paid no attention to her shivers. Or perhaps he did, and that's why he'd decided to pin her down.

When she stopped uselessly fighting him, he pulled her up and onto his lap. With her straddling him, he paused. He looked down at her with his most intelligent, measuring gaze, his orbs a concentrated mass of emerald flares.

Like he was evaluating her. She didn't know what to do, or think.

Not really what to feel, either.

* * *

_A favor for the dying._

He repeated it in his mind.

_A favor for the dying. _

He repeated it to himself every time his reason wandered dangerously far off, and he suddenly found himself thinking _this is not so bad. _Each time he realized he enjoyed touching her, or pressing her body closer to his, or clutching her tighter in his grasp. He repeated it every time he looked into her eyes and felt that utterly unfamiliar sensation course through his chest. But most of all, he repeated it to himself each and every time he felt even the slightest hint of sorrow at the thought of her imminent death:

_A favor for the dying._

That was the only reason he let himself close in on her. He would only let himself approach because she would soon be gone, and once she was no more, he would never again indulge himself in anything like this again.

"What did he say?" he heard himself inquiring. "The doctor."

Paige's ice-colored eyes looked at him, unchanged in their mild confusion and wonder.

"He... He actually told me something good."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed.

"He said, well, that my leukemia, uh..."

As he listened to her uncertain words, he slowly frowned.

"It seems he switched some papers with mine.... And..."

Before she could finish, he hoisted her up as he rose to his feet, and watched her intently. His frown was heavy on his face – that much, he knew. She wavered and stepped back, but he held her still. Wordlessly waiting for her to continue, he observed her closely.

"...He said I don't have... leukemia," she managed in a quiet voice.

* * *

While she watched, his face turned cold and his scowl faded into a stony expression. She half expected relief, but after looking into his eyes for a long moment, it dawned on her that such a thing might not come.

Sephiroth let go of her arms. Though he was by no means did so hurriedly, she felt her heart turn cold to the very core. When she saw him step back, it was as if she had just suffered a finishing blow. His face, his eyes, they were so empty when they perceived her, so unfeeling. She was staring openly now, helplessly wondering whether to reach out or perhaps say something. But in the presence of this powerful person, in a delicate matter like this, she really didn't have much of a say. The way he was standing, moving, looking at her, and not speaking a word...

He was leaving. Obviously leaving.

Lingering only for a moment, he turned away steadily, silvery wisps of hair drifting in his wake.

* * *

"Se-..." he barely heard her begin, but with no power behind it.

He continued his slow strides without pause, until he was out of the garden, out of her view, out of the reach of her voice. If he stopped now, or hesitated, there would be no escape later. The sooner he erased her existence from his mind, the better. With her leukemia out of the way, there honestly was no telling how long she would live. There was a great gap between a few months and a few decades. Some months, he could afford to waste. Decades, however, were another matter entirely.

In a case like this, _immediately_ was the best time to severe all ties between them. Before she could manifest herself in his life. He would not turn soft or let his blade grow dull by staying with her.

That life was not for him.

So he would leave.

Now.

* * *

The first thing to greet them when they reached their destination was the rising, burning sun, swathed in layers of crimson clouds. Below it lay row by row of mountains, their silhouette dark in the young morning. Scattered about lay small houses and hamlets, a few with barns, most of them not looking overly wealthy. The only large buildings rested on a peninsula, and looked somewhat like a school. Surrounding it – like a rippling, moving mirror – the Columbia River coursed past, its surface playing with the bright, warm colors of the sky.

So far, though, the only thing they could hear was the roar of the helocopters' engines.

"You'd think Sephiroth'd choose somewhere less sparkly," remarked Reno, grinning wryly. After some seconds Tseng walked up from behind Reno and Rude, and observed the landscape below. "We're here, boss. What'd the professor say again?"

"... Literally, that except for Shinra's Headquarters, _this_ is the only place on earth with high enough mako levels for there to be a chance of Sephiroth's materia to be nearby," explained Tseng. If anything, his voice was smoother than his explanation. "Put simply, since Sephiroth would hardly leave any of his powerful materia behind anywhere, he has to be close."

"Leave the reasons and science for the brainiacs," retorted Reno. "What're _we _up to?"

Tseng took a deliberate pause and glanced at the sheet of paper in his hand.  
"We are to find and subdue Sephiroth, then return him to the Shinra Headquarters."

_Huh._

"Easier said than done. We were given coordinates by Hojo, right?"  
"You should know by now."

"I do, boss. But those coordinates are already days old. Maybe Sephiroth's somewhere else already."  
"Hn," agreed Rude, who until now had busied himself with adjusting his sunglasses. Tseng spared him a measuring glance.

"If that turns out to be the case, then we only need to call professor Hojo and ask him to use the mako tracking machine again."

* * *

Paige was torn.

She had tried her best to brush it off. For a while, she'd tried to tell herself that Sephiroth would soon come back, as if nothing was wrong. Then she had told herself that this was bound to happen – Sephiroth would have left sooner or later anyway. After that she had attempted making fun of herself for being naïve enough to think that Sephiroth would fall for somebody like her. As if a super-awesome person like him would pay Paige-the-ant any notice. Finally, she settled for scowling at anything and everything that worsened her foul mood. No matter how she tried to belittle the situation, she felt like her chest had turned into a magnificently unmerciful wreck. She didn't know how to heal something like that.

"Yo," said John Smoth.

"Yo," repeated John Smoth.

"Yo," said John Smoth again.

"Yo," he repeated _again_.

"What," Paige breathed into the sofa pillow. She lay curled up on the black two-seat sofa. Earlier, she had considered throwing out everything that reminded her of Sephiroth-the-unreachable-and-not-keepable, including the three-seat sofa, the television, the Rubik's Cubes and so on, but she changed her mind when she thought of the sauna in the garden. Speaking of the garden, maybe she should go 'borrow' some weeds and bushes from her neighbors and plant them all over the garden, to hide the burns that man left behind.

"Your favorite record has got to go," rapped John Smoth, bobbing his head.

Paige said nothing.

"Yeah, we can take it all back to da register, start all ova' from da canister, let's break it all down." Still she said nothing.

From somewhere that seemed far away, she heard a buzzing sound. Like the distant droning of a refrigerator, or an approaching car. First she thought it was her imagination. As it grew louder, she figured it might come from the television. When she looked up to check, though (or actually to scowl murderously at the screen), she realized it was off. Sighing heavily, Paige curled up even more. The noise sounded like helicopters, now. She kept still, her annoyance growing. While she waited for the racket to quieten, she tried to convince herself to call her parents and tell them about her not-so-real leukemia. But she couldn't get herself to do it.

One sigh later, a different sound carried to her ears.

A knocking sound.

"Gah..."

By the time she mustered enough strength and willpower to sit up, a complete stranger was in her living room. Thankfully, that sharpened her senses enough for her to get to her feet.

"I apologize for the intrusion," the man said, then he flipped out a card that most likely explained who he was. She wasn't close enough to be able to read it, though. Maybe FBI or CIA or something along those lines. Before she replied, he put the card back in his pocket and removed his glasses. Pale skin, a spot of the forehead and long, black hair in a ponytail. And a suit. The suit was so neat and wrinkle-free he looked more like a two-dimensional poster than a man.

"Who're you? What're you doing here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in warning at the business-like person.

"We are searching for a man called Sephiroth."

Now, _that_ kind of came as a surprise, really. Maybe she should have seen it coming. Better not let her surprise show on her face, though. Come to think of it, was that why she'd heard helicopters? Because a lot of people were searching for Sephiroth?

"Have you seen him? He has long, silver hair." Maybe this suit-guy was from Shinba, or Chinba. Or Shinra. Whichever.

And so, Paige did her very best to make a face that said 'I have no freaking idea what the heck you're talking about.'

"I'm sorry, _who?_" _Come on, scrunched-up eyebrows, sceptical turn of the lips and lazy, I-don't-give-a-crap eyes! _If her face came out as teenagerish as she wanted it to, she was off the hook already.

"...Never mind, then," said the man, and turned to leave.

But...

"Yo. My name's Shut Up, what's yours?" asked John Smoth. Paige clenched her teeth and hoped the man wouldn't be bothered, but he stopped and faced the parrot. All three of them remained quiet while the suit-clad man put on his glasses again. Once he did, though, John Smoth stood as tall as he could and rustled his feathers vigorously.

"Hojo!" the bird exclaimed, flapping his wings. "Hojo!"

Inwardly, Paige repeated the string of dark curses she'd yelled at her doctor last night. Her face was already mask-covered, though: Mild confusion, a hint of wonder, and a tiny dash of I-have-no-idea-what-he-just-said,-and-I-really-don't-give-a-crap. Inside her head, on the other hand (next to the string of curses), a storm of doom and and a thousand thunders and lightnings was raging. Though she didn't exactly remember who Hojo was, he had something to do with Chinra. Or Shinra.

"...Hojo, you say," muttered Tseng, and glanced at Paige.

She did her best to look back with disinterest. "What the heck is Hojo?"

Tseng looked down at her, his eyes calm and measuring. From his pocket, he fished up a cellphone. Before she knew it he had dialled a number and was talking to somebody. Paige wondered if this was the right moment to try out a karate move or two, but soon realized her brain had chosen this moment to give her a blackout on every subject vaguely connected to martial arts. It was funny, almost.

"Reno, gather the men and the beasts and get to the north-westernmost house," ordered Tseng. "The one with the burnt garden. There is a chance that is Sephiroth's doing."

_Karate skills, come to me!_ Paige thought ferociously, but to no avail, as usual. But wait a minute, 'the men and the beasts'?!

"No, Sephiroth isn't here. There are people here who might have information on him, though. We'll take them with us back."

Paige stared, wide-eyed.

_Take... with?_

"Got my _eye _on ya," informed John Smoth.

* * *

R.R.

Next time I will be faster..


	20. Epic Karate

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy yet.

(Wut, I'm late _again_?! I stink. I told you to yell at (and threaten) me!)  
That aside... I really feel a need to say that every time I read your reviews, I realize why I got into writing in the first place, and how much I dig you folks. (_oh, really?_ **ya, really!**)

* * *

Epic Karate

* * *

Tseng-the-frighteningly-well-clad businessman-lookalike turned to her with an air of complete and utter control, with a face that said "I apologize for my rudeness, but I shall have to take you with me now," and sunglasses that said "By the way, I am more of a pro than you are, so don't try to resist." Meanwhile, Paige stared at him with all the composure of an elderly lady whose purse had just been stolen; she was shocked, scared and positively pissed.

"You should come without causing trouble," the man informed, voice calm and collected. That didn't make the situation any more pleasant.

Despite his politeness, Paige had a feeling he was deadly serious.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of town, in a large house that looked rather magnificent compared to all the other houses in the area, Solomon was watching television. Or rather, he was switching from channel to channel without finding anything particularly interesting. In the end he settled for the news.

And he was glad he did.

In rapid succession, pictures were shown that made him grow cold inside. While reporters and news anchors spoke of helicopters and other aircrafts crossing borders at extreme speed from the northern part of Asia, to Europe, to the United States, Solomon's eyes were fixed on the screen. Once the army of unknown choppers were above the land of the United States – and Canada, too – they had dropped dozens of beasts to the ground. They were the kind of monsters that had roamed the earth months before, the ones nobody had managed to find the source of. And although that alone was more than enough to keep Solomon watching, there was another, even more devastating fact that kept him from changing to another channel. Right now, all those choppers and small airships had gathered in the same place.

Above the village in which Solomon lived.

"That-... _Dad!_" he called loudly, frowning. "Dad, come here! You have to see this!"

His father appeared in the door not much later – a tall man with light, cropped hair. With trained steps and a much deeper frown than that of his son, he entered the room and glanced at the television. Before he could grasp the situation, though, the doorbell rang.

"Wait, I'll just get that, first," muttered his father and turned on his heel.

"No, wait!" Solomon nearly hissed, and quickly got up from the sofa he had occupied, but his father was out of sight already. He was a karate instructor, after all. Staying alert, Solomon strode after his father to the entrance door just in time to see him open it. On the other side stood a bald man in a suit. He was wearing sunglasses.

For a moment, nobody said anything. Then the stranger cleared his voice and produced a piece of paper from one of his pockets. After another brief pause, he showed it to Solomon's father.

A photograph.

"... Familiar?" asked the man stiffly, his brows slightly furrowed, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. Solomon's father glanced at the photo and shook his head. Although he managed to look quite at ease, Solomon knew him well enough to tell that he was keeping his guard up. One hand was at his cheek, as if he was thinking, the other hung at his side, slightly in front of him, ready to block or punch. Staying out of his dad's kick range (just in case), Solomon tried to catch a glimpse of the photo.

A man with long, silver hair and shoulder pauldrons of steel looked back at him, so familiar Solomon couldn't hold back his surprise.

The man in the suit saw it.

At his sign – a quick flip of his hand while he put away the photo – there was the sound of a several pairs of boots on concrete. Bulky infantrymen wearing helmets and black, military-like uniforms took their place around the bald one. They were holding large guns nonchalantly, as if they knew this was their win.

Solomon stumbled back.

His father was faster, though. Before they had all gotten into place, one got a kick in the neck, another was swept off his feet, only to be dealt a quick heel kick that hit the pit of his stomach. The third instinctively held up his weapon to guard himself from an attack that showed out to be a feint, but got a hard foot in his ribs instead – soon he was on his knees. By that time, though, the ball of his dad's foot had already made itself acquainted with the underside of the fourth man's chin, which sent him flying. Two men left, now – one of them the bald one, who was putting on leather gloves while stepping back, frowning in silence. Solomon's dad glanced at the other men to make sure they were out cold, then passed them slowly, with the air and expression of one who is in control of the situation. When the last uniformed man aimed his gun at him, Solomon's dad stepped aside and ducked down to pick up one of the other men's guns. Then he flung it at the remaining infantryman with all the force he could muster.

Solomon didn't watch when it hit the man, but he heard it, all right.

"... It's fine, Solomon," came his father's voice. "They're all wearing vests."  
Solomon looked up hesitantly. Then, were they all still alive, somehow?

"What...?"  
"Kevlar vests," said his dad, watching the bald man. "Or... am I wrong?"

The bald one took his time before replying.

"... No," he said curtly.

Just then, a cellphone started ringing. The bald man thought twice before replying, and once he did, he kept both eyes on Solomon's dad. Personally Solomon felt somewhat overlooked. Only a little, though. The bald man didn't speak a word – it seemed he was just listening to whoever was on the other end. After the brief, wordless conversation was over, the bald man confirmed with a short "Yes," and then hung up.

Before they knew it, smoke bombs exploded all over the place. Solomon ducked into the house, soon followed by his dad. No need to risk getting killed like that.

"Dad-"  
"I've already seen the news," muttered his father, all his attention on the door he had just closed.

"No, it's not about that, it's about the man in the picture," continued Solomon, while the two of them shut and locked the main doors. "He works at our school. He's our P.E. teacher."

At that, his dad turned to him and arched an eyebrow, then slowly frowned.

The peace didn't last for long, though – the moment the door was locked, something slammed into the long, small window on the left side of the door. It didn't break, but soon the 'something' crashed into it again. As if somebody was trying to break the glass to get inside. _People?_ Those guys from earlier?

When he took a closer look (as close as he dared), Solomon wanted to be sick.

The face was only plastered to the window for a second before it pulled back to try again, but there was no mistaking it. The head was as huge as that of a horse, but with the shape of a dog. With an open, blue jaw full of distorted teeth and a lolling, drool-drenched tongue, and other darker blue, horn-like protrusions standing up from its head and down its neck, the beast continued its attempts to break the glass. They were the kind of fiends they had seen on television months previously – the ones that had seemingly come from nowhere, and had eventually disappeared into nothing. Just when Solomon thought this was as bad as things could get, another beast came knocking on the window on the other side of the door.

"... Nothing we can do about your teacher _now_," his father said gravely, running a hand through his short, cropped hair. Just as he finished speaking, they heard the sound of breaking glass from the living room.

* * *

"Get her into the helicopter," ordered Tseng, and although he was still calm, a tiny hint of frustration was coming through to the surface of his face.

A man wearing a thick uniform and a black helmet was carrying John Smoth in his hands (since there was no bird cage to keep him in), with his gun hanging by a strap from his shoulder.

A short while ago, a guy with a red ponytail and goggles arrived to take care of Paige, who was still trying to summon her karate skills. If this were a movie, and if she were the heroine, she would have beat them all senseless and claimed the title of Ultmate Savior Hero Super Deluxe, Karate Edition. At the time being, however, she wasn't much of a savior, or hero, and there was nothing _super, ultimate _or _deluxe _about the situation. And nothing karate-ish, either.

"Let _go_ of me!" she shouted, red-faced, as the fire-hair man pulled her along out of the house.

"Sorry, that won't do."

Gritting her teeth, she kicked him unceremoniously in the shin, without a trace of karate-ishness. He gave an annoyed grunt, but didn't let go. Struggling and bending like a stubborn donkey with monkey tendencies, Paige tried freeing her arms from his grip. It was no good, though – they'd cuffed her wrists. For the first time (and hopefully last) in her life, she was wearing handcuffs, and they weren't nearly as sufferable as when somebody else was wearing them. If she wanted to deal a reasonable punch, she would have to do it with both hands – but first she'd have to shake off the strong hands of the red-haired man. If only she could get a _minute _in private, she could use her cellphone to call the police, or her dad, or even (she shuddered) Solomon. Or Solomon's dad, her karate teacher. He would no doubt have super-kicked-and-strike-punched his way outta' this situation in five seconds.

"Gah-" she exclaimed as she stumbled and fell, right by the gate to her little, burnt garden.

Before the red-haired guy pulled her up, she hooked one foot into the gate – an old thing made of wood. If the fire-ponytail guy wanted her to come with him, he'd have to break her legs.

… And he tried, all right.

"Ow-ow-ow!" she exclaimed, gritting her teeth at the grip under her arms.

"Hojo!" exclaimed John Smoth upon hearing her voice, flapping his wings uselessly, still in the hands of the guard.  
"Shaddap!" growled Paige as she was hauled to her feet.

Down the road, almost out of sight, stood a black helicopter. She didn't need anybody to tell her that that's where they were heading.

"Hojo-"  
"I said shut up!"

"My name's Shut Up, what's yours?" replied the parrot, still flapping his wings. The red-ponytail guy snorted and smirked at the bird. He didn't seem to have too much trouble with Paige. So much for her dreams of magically (or at least heroically) breaking out with the help of her karate skills.

"This is all _your _fault," she muttered and scowled at John Smoth – a particularly dark scowl, this time.

"Mental blade cut through flesh and bone," rapped John Smoth in response, bobbing his head to the best of his ability. That wasn't much, since the uniform-and-helmet guy still held him still. "Damn, feels good ta be a gangsta'."

"Lively one, isn't it?" asked the red-haired one.

Paige scowled at him, too, but didn't say anything. Behind them, Tseng watched quietly.

* * *

Meanwhile, at Solomon's house, furniture was being moved at a ridiculous speed, to cover all the windows. A large cabinet was already covering the front door and the windows on both sides of it, and bookshelves were in front of the large windows in the living room. By fortunate coincidence, Solomon discovered that pulling the curtains also helped – as long as the monsters outside couldn't see through the window (or spot any movement inside), they were reluctant to come closer. Even so, it was nerve-wracking to know they were out there. Solomon and his dad were running all over the place to pull curtains, of all things. At one point a winged little creature broke through a small window on the upper floor, but his dad took care of it before Solomon got there.

At the moment, though, things were calm.

Personally Solomon was feeling tempted to peek out a window and check if the fiends were still there, but that was out of the question – if the monsters were there, and saw him looking, things could get bad.

"Dad, should we call somebody?" asked Solomon.

His dad calmly picked up a cellphone from his pocket and glanced at his son.

"I already called them," he said. "Before those men paid a visit. The minute I heard the news on the radio." In other words, he'd _heard_ the news before Solomon had even _seen_ them.  
"Then, who're coming? Who did you call?"  
"Everybody there is to call," replied his father, giving a rare, sloping grin. "But nobody seems to be here yet."

Wanting to feel a little useful too, Solomon found his own cellphone.

"Then I'll give my friends a call," he said, already surfing through his list of contacts. He'd already tried giving Paige a call, but she wouldn't pick up the phone.

The person he called now was his friend Bray, one of Paige's neighbors. Gritting his teeth with impatience, he waited. It took a long time before anybody picked up the phone, and when it happened, the person at the other end seemed out of breath, and was talking in a hushed voice.

"_Hello?_" replied his friend.

"Hi, Bray. Just called to ask if you've seen any, uh, monsters around," said Solomon. No need to be vague about it. "Because we have, and they're persistent."

"_Yeah, tell me about it. My parents, my sister and I are all hiding in the bathroom. There's some kinda monster bear in our house!_" he hissed.

"Any of you hurt?" His dad watched him talk, frowning. That was his way of worrying.

"_No—luckily not. We've locked the bathroom door, for all it's worth. Though to be honest, if any of us come face to face with the thing in our house, I doubt they'd live to see the end of the day. What about you? You'n your dad both know some karate, right? Ought to help._"

"Well, yeah. Dad's already put it to use, too. But, say, Bray, can you see Paige's house from your house?" he asked. "I called her, too, but she didn't answer. I figured I should check if something's off."

"_... What, Paige? Yeah, I guess. We have a small window in here. Hold on a sec..._"

A long silence ensued, during which he heard worried whispers on the other end of the phone. At the same time, something thumped into one of the living room windows in Solomon's home, and his dad's attention snapped to it. Solomon waited impatiently. The phone was silent now, but before he knew it, rushed whispers were being exchanged.

"_Hey, Solomon,_" said Bray, "_Something's up. I can't see Paige's house from our bathroom, but I can __see the road. Somebody's pulling Paige down to a helicopter._"

Solomon couldn't do anything except stare.

* * *

"But it's _mine!_" growled Paige, only able to watch as her cellphone was taken from her. Its small keychain—a 2x2 Rubik's cube—looked out of place, and vexed her to boot. "You can't take it!"

The thief was the guy who had called himself Tsang, or Tsung, or something. At the same time, the red-haired man was pulling her backwards into the helicopter, while John Smoth was saying "Hojo," again and again, with an occasional, nervous "Hold my purse-" to the man who held him. For the first time since they left her house, though, Paige managed to give the ponytail-man a hard time. She squirmed and kicked and wriggled, while he tried hauling her aboard by her shoulders. But just when she considered biting his hands, she saw a flash in the corner of her vision.

Then, in front of the helicopter, appeared a grinning girl with a ridiculous number of ninja-ish weapons in both hands.

A ninja-ish person, with short hair, a ninja-ish outfit and an air of ninja-ish, epic martial arts-ishness.

"Hiya, guys!" she said cheerfully. "Mind giving that person back?" Although Paige had never seen the girl, she would much rather be with a grinning ninja-woman than several suit-clad men with sunglasses in a helicopter.

"What...? Are you stupid?" asked the red-haired guy, who was still trying to pull her into the chopper. Paige could almost hear him flashing a lopsided smirk.

"No," claimed the ninja woman confidently, smirking back as she readied her weapons. Had Paige been able to read minds, she would have known that the reason the young ninja was here, was that Paige's mother had watched the news about the monsters, and had become so worried she called Avalanche, who were already spread all over the area to kill said monsters, and who had therefore called Yuffie, who was closest to Paige's house, to ask her to check on Paige and save her if needed. But Paige couldn't read minds, of course, so she would never even know that the true reason the ninja woman was here was that there was a possibility she could steal materia from Paige's assailants. But all that remained undisclosed to Paige, who had never even seen the ninja-woman before.

"Reno," said Tsung—or Tseng—in a warning voice. Reno must be the name of the ponytailed man, because all of a sudden, she was dropped unceremoniously all the way to the ground, from the helicopter door.

After a somewhat long fall and an unkind meeting with the ground, she sat up unsteadily. Before she knew right from left—or up from down, for that matter—knives and weapons of all sizes and shapes slashed through the air everywhere. She felt like a fart in a hurricane. There were a few thuds as some of them landed on the ground, or in the helicopter, but most weapons were picked up before they fell that far. The speed at which the ninja-woman and the red-haired Reno moved at was so absurdly high that she could see about ten of them—all moving in a blur. For the smallest part of a second she felt like a fool for even trying to break free from Reno earlier, but then a more foolhardy part of her mind kicked in, and she glanced down at her handcuffed wrists, thinking. Then she glanced up at Tsang. Or Tsung.

He was watching the battle at the moment, and was still holding her cellphone. Its Rubik's cube charm annoyed her even now, because of the silver-haired person it reminded her of. Her face hardened just at the sight of it.

As fast as she could, she got to her feet and grabbed a knife from the wall of the helicopter. To her eyes, it looked like a magnificently sharp kitchen knife, but she doubted _food _was what the thing usually cut. Then, with her weapon raised, she advanced towards Tsong, or whoever.

Before she got close, though, he pointed a gun at her without even looking in her direction.

"Drop that, and move into the helicopter quietly," he demanded.

Because his voice sounded so boss-like (or karate teacher-ish, she confusedly thought), she reflexively dropped the knife.

"No," she said, stupidly glancing down at the knife on the ground. At least this person wouldn't _kill _her, right? They needed her alive, right? As a hostage, or to get info about Sephiroth, even though she claimed not to know anything.

Tseng spoke again, after glancing at the infantryman inside the chopper, who was holding John Smoth. "If she is not inside within a minute, kill the bird."

And so, feeling rather lame, she obligingly struggled her way up the small ladder, still handcuffed.

"Nngh!" she heard behind her, and glanced back. The ninja woman rolled to a stop on the ground, but got up quickly. A stab of guilt rocketed through Paige and she gritted her teeth. But now there really wasn't a thing she could do. The woman was fighting more men now, who had appeared from nowhere. Who had called them here? There were a few infantrymen with helmets—like the one who was holding John Smoth—as well as a bald man with sunglasses.

"Ten seconds left," reminded Tsung.

And so she hurried on into the aircraft, where somebody shoved her into a small room so she couldn't see outside. After what seemed like only a minute, the men who had been fighting the ninja-woman got aboard, too, muttering (to her relief) that the woman had escaped. Many of the infantrymen seemed to have been injured.

"Hojo..." said John Smoth slowly, barely audible. If a parrot could be genuinely frightened, this was how it would sound, she figured. Just then it dawned on her that whoever Hojo was, she might end up meeting him. That probably wasn't a good thing.

Those were her thoughts as the helicopter took off.

* * *

At the same time, far to the south, Sephiroth stood waiting. After he had left Paige's home, he had been struck by the most ridiculous thought.

_Where can I go? _

Where could he go, except back to the place he had gotten so used to, this last year? But asking such questions was ridiculous—he knew what to do, and where to go. Extracting revenge against Shinra was the only matter he should spend time on. It had not passed him by that Shinra had sent more than half their forces to Canada, and to the US, along with hordes of fiends. Such an opportunity could not be passed up. Now Shinra was physically split. With their defenses like that, it would be simple to crush them completely. The only thing he had not yet decided, however, was where to go first—to Shinra's hidden headquarters in the utmost north of Russia, or back to Canada, to the village he had just left? Shinra was waiting for him in both places. And no matter how he tried, Sephiroth could not be in two places at once.

While refusing to think of the things he had left behind with Paige, and ignoring the arguments he subconsciously fabricated, he had flown straight south, without looking back. Towards the imposing, white-painted home of a certain person who he would persuade into humiliating Shinra for him.

Of course, he would only let that person take on the small fry. Sephiroth himself would send the rest—the important rest—into oblivion with his own hands.

To get into the man's quarters, he cut his way through the large windows—on which he cast the Silence spell to avoid noise—and entered as if the magnificent room beyond were his own. He strode slowly past the impressive desk and over to the ornamented doors, next to which he remained still until the owner of the office entered. The doors closed silently behind the flawlessly dressed man. His insignificant high-class demeanor aside, he actually walked halfway through the room before noticing that a big portion of his grand windows was missing. After a second he turned on his heel to exit the room, but stopped again abruptly when he saw Sephiroth.

This time, in contrast to the last time they met, Sephiroth was not wearing a hood, despite all the security cameras.

He was wearing his usual clothes—his Soldier 1st Class uniform—and his Masamune was in his left hand, lowered. After leaving Paige behind, he had only briefly went inside her house to bring it with him.

Compared to Sephiroth, the President looked rather defenseless.

* * *

R.R.

(-dodges tomatoes thrown by readers who've been waiting too long for this chapter-)


	21. Pulling Legs

Disclaimer: I still don't own Final Fantasy.

I'm feeling low... (_-siiigh-_) So much stuff is up. I'm glad I have you guys, though! : ) Really and truly. Thanks for each and every review. : )

Oh... And this is the second-last chapter. Next chapter is the last.  
On that note, haven't a single one of you guys noticed what I've done with the chapter titles? (_**If**_ you need a hint: The first letter of each chapter title... Even though a letter is still missing...)

* * *

Pulling Legs

* * *

How many hours had she been in this stuffy room in this messy helicopter, listening to its headache-inducing engine noise?

_Logically_ speaking, maybe ten hours? Fifteen? But for Paige, _logically speaking _wasn't good enough. Felt more like fifteen _days_. By now, she had stopped fretting and making grimaces and shouting that she was innocent, and had instead put on a mask of stone cold iciness. At least that was what she told herself. Although she would never admit it, she probably looked more _constipated _than icy, since it had been extremely long since her last visit to the bathroom. She didn't dare to say that to Tsung, or Reno, or any of the others, though, out of fear it would sound like an excuse. And maybe it was. After all, she was sitting (against her will) in a dark and small cupboard-like room, with some rags for a door. Or maybe they weren't rags, but leather coats or old uniforms—there were a few of those in heaps on the floor as well, and on pegs on the wall. If that weren't enough, the helicopter rotor roared without stop as if its life depended on it.

Despite that, however, she could hear the others talk. If only barely.

"I still can't believe she _did_ that," said a man, his voice tight with anger.

"Just get over it," replied another. "Shinra'll give us all new materia. Right, Reno?"

"… I wouldn't get my hopes up, if I were you," answered the red-head, his voice a little lazy, or perhaps careless? "You'll get a discount in the shops managed by Shinra. At best."

Despite herself, Paige smirked a bit. They'd had this conversation over and over again. Apparently, that ninja woman who had tried to save her earlier had managed to steal materia from some of these guys. Paige's amusement didn't last for long, though.

"Hojo!" screamed John Smoth. From the fragments of conversation she'd listened to so far, Tsung—or Tseng—speculated that John Smoth had been used in a past experiment made by Hojo. Maybe that was why they'd brought him with them. To take him back to that person. _What a sick man._ If she ever met him, she'd punch him, no matter how dangerous he looked. Even if he stood six and a half feet tall and had shoulders like a bull, and laser eyes, and white Einstein hair and eyebrows grown together in the middle, she'd punch him.

* * *

It was with a thrill Sephiroth felt air rush past his ears again, as he flew onwards with the Masamune in his left hand, and a borrowed cellphone in the other.

For what seemed the longest time, Sephiroth had waited for the President of the United States to contact Canada and get a string of formalities in order. Of course, Sephiroth could have gone straight to the ones in power in Canada in the first place—the problem was that nobody there would have trusted him to the degree the US President did. After all, Sephiroth had saved his life on one occasion, although that had been on the whim of Pai-... Of _that woman_. As such, the President owed him, and would 'pay back' under the pretense of the greater good: to kill off the fiends roaming about in the north—in other words, in Canada. Which was why he was currently leading the way for a swarm of choppers with special forces in them, sent with him by the US President.

While they would handle the fiends (and contact Sephiroth on his borrowed cellphone for advice against the more troublesome monsters), Sephiroth would take care of Shinra's human employees on his own, and he would do so with great satisfaction.

Or so he thought, until they arrived.

All along the Columbia river, helicopters had detached themselves from the main group, to take care of fiends. The rest followed Sephiroth to the place where it was worst—the once idyllic town made up of small hamlets and homes, one of which housed _that woman_. Here and there, small buildings were broken, and parts of the forest were burnt. Bulky fiends surrounded some houses—a few of which seemed to have people in them. There was even a car, racing down the road past them, with a couple of beasts chasing it. Sephiroth absently took notice that one of the helicopters left the group to take care of it. Further on, on a balcony, a small family seemed to be trapped—perhaps there was a monster inside their house—and one of them waved his arms when the helicopters passed overhead. Before long, Sephiroth landed in a newly cut hayfield, followed by most of the helicopters. A few continued past, so as to cover more of the area. Now that all the helicopters were there, it wouldn't be long before planes arrived to drop off soldiers in parachutes. Already, fiends were lurking under the cover of trees around their landing field.

But Sephiroth could pay no notice, because so far, he had not seen one Soldier, or even one employee, of Shinra's.

* * *

"What the _fawk'_s goin' on?" John Smoth squawked, squirming uselessly in the grip on the infrantryman that held him. Some of the others laughed a bit—John Smoth had proved himself worthy of attention. He kept the others entertained.

"I got my _eye _on ya."

And they laughed again, louder this time. John Smoth took it badly.

"Disrespect hip-hop, and I'll spit in your face!" And then he made a spitting noise that sounded awfully real, even though it wasn't, and set the others off laughing again. In her dark room, Paige felt ignored and rejected (for which she mentally slapped herself). She hadn't slept for a looong time. After yesterday's revelation about her "leukemia" (was it really only yesterday?), she hadn't been able to sleep at all. And then there was Sephiroth, the elf-like, silver-haired, jade-eyed man who had left her without a word. Paige felt her eyebrows twitch.

And even so, she couldn't help but wonder what he'd say, or do, when he found out where she was.

If he ever did.

* * *

People were calling him from all directions.

Some asked how to defeat a large bear-like fiend with brutish strength, others asked which weapons were most effective against a fast, airborne fiend, one requested reinforcements against a beast using lightning magic, and others again claimed that they had encountered a monster whose appearance made it sound to Sephiroth like it was a summon. Even without his cellphone, he could hear people call for help or assistance, hear fiends roar and military forces opening fire.

Frankly, he could not care less.

For some reason, Shinra had left the area without bringing the monsters with them. Why? Was it not their motive to capture him and bring him back? Of course, Sephiroth was planning to head to Shinra's hidden headquarters in the end—regardless of the danger. He would lay waste to all that had to do with Shinra, and leave it in ruins beyond repair, littered with the filth that was the remains of his past superiors. And there really was only one way the Shinra employees could have gone: in the direction of the Shinra HQ. From where he was now, the shortest way was north-west through Alaska and over the North Pacific Ocean—and onwards into Russia.

Sephiroth walked forward, observing a group of men fighting a dragon-like fiend with some distress. As he came closer, he increased his speed and strode, then sprung into the air and raised his Masamune. Not a moment later he brought it down upon the creature and killed it. Not stopping, Sephiroth flew on, his trail hidden by the pyreflies that escaped the bleeding body of the creature.

From now on, the special forces would have to manage on their own.

Sephiroth would not waste another second here that could be spent wreaking havoc on Shinra.

* * *

A dozen bazillion hours had passed.

Paige was hallucinating now, hallucinating about toilets, one shinier and brighter than the other. A seat of white gold with diamonds and pearls for decoration. And the more she hallucinated, the angrier she got, and the angrier she got, the harder her mask turned, and the harder her mask turned, the more constipated she looked. She probably appeared very fierce at the moment. Just where in the world were they going? When would they get there? Why did they even bring her, anyway? Just because John Smoth had the brains to say "Hojo" in front of them?

"Tseng!" called one the men from outside her little, dark room, his voice urgent. "Chief! Our helicopters are being followed!" It was only through an abnormally powerful effort of extreme concentration that Paige managed to ignore the images in her head, which showed her military-ish toilets with rotors being chased by an even more hostile-looking, enormous toilet. Gritting her teeth, she tried to listen in. She'd already lost out on a bit of conversation.

"-to keep away, and to move as fast as possible," said Tseng. Or Tsung. "Spread out as well. That will delay him. I will call the headquarters and warn them."

Silence ensued for some seconds. Maybe he was on the phone.

"If that is the case, use summons." Tseng seemed as calm and businesslike as ever. She was pretty sure the phrase "Listen to me, since I am calm and you are not," was written all over his face, and his suit was probably still so flawless it spelled "Dare to refuse orders and I will terminate you without even dirtying myself."

Anyway, if Paige had understood correctly, they were being followed.

* * *

Meanwhile, far away, yet coming closer, Sephiroth had found yet another of Shinra's helicopters.

So far he had cut down three of them, and watched as each plummeted down towards the ground, out of the labyrith of clouds that had gathered in his path. Although he had not seen any of them crash into the ground, he was certain that the people inside were dead—unless, of course, they had parachutes. A rather vexed part of him admitted that that was most likely the case, but he ignored it and went on, his sword ready for the next aircraft—be it a helicopter or an airplane.

The next came from nowhere, out of the wall of a cloud on the left, the only warning of its arrival the noise it made.

Sephiroth slashed it off right below the rotor and flew ahead without looking back. As he turned around the next giant of a cloud, several helicopters appeared at once—all with their sides turned to him, with open doors and people standing in them. He recognized many of them as Soldiers. In their hands were glowing red materia.

_Summon materia, then._

"Insects," he muttered under his breath at them.

In a clash of colors and light, the summoned beasts came forth, one after another, all turned to him with weapons raised, jaws open and eyes glowing.

"Insects..." he muttered again, as he raised the Masamune with deliberate slowness, watching as the summoned Odin, astride his many-legged horse, rode towards him in the air. Putting strength behind his sword, Sephiroth slashed them—cleaved them—before they could attempt anything similar against him. Next came a surge of chilly wind as Shiva charged, her cold figure shrouded by glowing ice, her face devoid of expression as she raised her hand and sent her elemental spells at him.

At that, Sephiroth let flow his energy and sent a Fire spell in return. The ice melted, but Shiva remained. Before he could take care of her, Sephiroth cast a magic barrier around himself—to protect him from the increasingly strong electricity that was starting to trickle along the currents of wind. Below, appearing to stand in the clouds, old Ramuh stood with his cane raised, his white beard billowing and his ancient face serious as he pulled forth his Lightning magic. Seeing that other summons approached—Bahamuts, judging from their dragon-like appearance—Sephiroth swooped down and slashed at the old man, once, twice-

And the Lightning element summon closed his eyes with a grimace around his eyes, and dissipated in a mass of pyreflies, like Odin and his horse had done moments before.

But just as Sephiroth turned back to take care of Shiva, he was blinded as one of the Bahamuts spewed a torrent of non-elemental magic at him.

"Tsch-"

Scowling darkly, with his eyes half closed so as not to expose himself to the bright magic, Sephiroth charged straight into the attack and flew towards the Bahamut expelling it. The beast's attack came to a very abrupt end as Sephiroth gave it an uppercut that severed its neck and head. Before giving in to death, it gave a rattling roar and disappeared into a swarm of glowing pyreflies. By then, Sephiroth was heading for Shiva, the Ice summon. Before her spell was ready, he cleanly decapitated her and rushed towards the remaining two Bahamuts.

On his way, with a flick of his Masamune, he sent a lingering helicopter plummeting to the ground.

* * *

Paige was in no condition to think clearly.

She was dead tired to the point of almost fainting, she needed to go to the washroom, she was stressed, she needed to go to the washroom, and she needed to go to the washroom. And her wrists were sore from the handcuffs. At best, the rushed voices of the other men in the helicopter became a slur that she only barely understood as "We're being followed." Apart from that, her ears caught single words like "summons", "parachutes", "hurry" and an occasional (and familiar) "Hojo!"

When the helicopter engines finally went off, it felt strange—as if something that had always been there just suddenly disappeared. Perhaps a little like living next to an airport for a half a lifetime, only to wake up one day and not hear a single airplane. Then, before she could do anything on her own, she was hauled out of the aircraft and into deep, freezing snow (to her great confusion). Then she was pulled along, her feet dragging in the blinding white snow (with the guy named Reno on one side and the bald man with sunglasses on the other). She probably didn't look to good, because Reno waved his hand in front of her eyes a few times, then lazily remarked that she looked like she had a hangover. Paige was still about to fall asleep on the spot, though, so she kept quiet and concentrated on staying awake. Even though his words annoyed her.

Then something amazing happened.

Something so amazing that it was just amazingly amazing.

They stopped in front of a white door with a minimalistic-looking lady on it—a women's restroom. _The_ women's restroom. The _Ladies' Room_.  
And she was allowed to go in.

* * *

Sephiroth raged—around him, flames seared through the now cloud-free air and carried to the summons.

They were all around him. More had come after he defeated the first ones. Several Odins astride many-legged chargers, a number of muttering Lightning wizards by the name of Ramuh, a diverse group of Bahamuts, and finally—to Sephiroth's frustration and vexation—a Knights of Round summon. Some attacked alone with long-distance magic, others charged at him together. Spells had singed him and one of the faster summons had managed to barrel into him once already. The Knights of Round had proven themselves particularly difficult and evasive. That only added to his rage.

Despite the summons and the attempts they made to take him down, however, Sephiroth kept moving forward, more set than ever to destroy Shinra and leave nothing but ruins in his wake.

* * *

When Paige was done in the bathroom, she felt so invincible she considered escaping through the window in there, but thought better of it. After all, John Smoth was still with the others. Besides, there were guards with guns around. To add to that, there were cameras all over, and she was still wearing those stupid handcuffs. And outside it was so cold she would freeze before she got past the gates.

In other words, all she had to do was free John Smoth and find the keys to her handcuffs, borrow a helmet, a weapon and a warm and bulletproof jacket, then threaten her way out of here.

With her karate skills, she could-

"Hojo!" screeched John Smoth as she got out of the ladies' room. By the looks of it, the infantryman holding him was having some problems. He was holding John Smoth by his legs, while the parrot flapped its wings like crazy. Paige clenched her teeth.

_Chance._

Now or never...?

"_GAAH!_" Paige shouted at the top of her lungs, so loud she was almost embarrassed, but it worked as she hoped it would: the infantryman holding John Smoth was so surprised he let go of the bird. John Smoth flew out of the way. Paige remained where she was and grinned contently, until the suit-clad guy with red hair stepped in front of her, his head tilted, a discontent smirk on his face. With his shadow falling on her like that, she felt a little helpless, so she defended herself with the only thing she knew how to use: her mask. Only instead of turning blank (or constipated, for that matter), she made sure she looked as deadly serious as possible (or actually as Sephiroth-ish as possible, but she wouldn't tell anyone that). In her peripheral vision, she saw John Smoth jumping around a corner while flapping his wings (he never was too much of a marathon flier, after all). The parrot muttered "P-P-P-Po, P-P-P-Poker face, P-P-P-Po-" while getting away. But that didn't steal the attention of Reno-the-ponytail-guy.

"What was that all about?" he asked in an annoyed voice, nodding his head to the infantryman who had held John Smoth until now, while pointing at her with a dangerous-looking iron baton.

"... I just remembered something." Her words came out as monotonous mumbles.

"Ha?" he replied, not convinced.

"You-"

_Wait a minute._

Paige looked over at the frowned, displeased infantryman (who hadn't chased after John Smoth, for reasons unknown), then glanced around briefly. Apart from Reno and the infantryman, there wasn't a person to be seen. Had the others left?

_Chance! Again!_

Doing her best to maintain her cold mask, Paige continued.

"You still have my cellphone," she said in a deathly mutter, and reached her open hands out.

And so...

_Karate skills, come to me! _And after a second of hesitation: _Please!_

Just as she had expected, Reno didn't hand her cellphone over (Tseng probably still had it). Instead, he reached out to grab her by the handcuffs. And so, with both her hands, Paige grabbed his fingers and curled them upwards in the wrong direction, quickly forcing him to kneel not to break his fingers.

"Wha-"

And then a swift roundhouse kick to his head rendered him immobilized—at least for the moment. His baton fell, too, and spun on the floor over to her feet.

_Another chance!_

High on luck (and gratefulness that her karate skills had come to her at last), Paige quickly picked up the small weapon and faced the infantryman. He had a rather enormously huge and scary looking knife in hand, or perhaps it was a machete, or a short sword. Paige clutched the baton tight, but then a spark came out of it, and she reflexively dropped it to the floor. Just as she was about to stoop down and get it, she saw the Rambo-ish knife in the corner of an eye and did the only thing she could think of doing: she kicked him in in the jewels. And so, he dropped the knife and fell on his knees, clutching his jewels with a fearsomely pained expression on his face. If she got back home safely, she had her karate teacher to thank for it.

Anyway, now she had _two _weapons-

"Hey, you little woman," said a voice. When she looked over her shoulder, the red-haired one was on his feet again, dusting his suit nonchalantly. Hurriedly, she picked up the knife and the mysterious spark-baton and faced the pro.

Her confidence was suddenly flatter than a flatfish, or a pancake, or a popped balloon. Because even though she had one weapon in each hand, she still had those handcuffs on. And she didn't know how to use the baton, and she didn't really want to stab anybody with a knife. To make matters worse, this Reno-person was holding one arm out towards her, and it was glowing—glowing the same way Sephiroth's hands did back when he showed her _magic. _And he was standing way too far away for her to use her small array of karate techniques. No, even if she were right next to him, he was probably better at martial arts than her.

Just how was _she _supposed to defeat _this guy_?

This Reno guy was definitely closer to Sephiroth in strength than her. And to put it bluntly, Paige could use a chainsaw, and Sephiroth could use a toothpick, and he'd still turn her into human sushi before John Smoth could say "Yo." She was done for.

"Okay," she said, trying to _be_ as calm as her mask-dominated face _looked_. "All right..." But her voice was thin, and uncertain.

"Something the matter?" asked Reno, flashing a smirk. This was his win, and the look on his face told her he knew it. "If you don't think you'll win, you might as well just give up," he continued. "Less pain that way."

_Do _something!

Paige swallowed. By now, only her face was calm. The rest of her was in turmoil. And she was still dead tired from lack of sleep. Her hand tightened around the hilt of the knife, and around the baton—and there, on the baton, was a button, and even though she barely touched it, a spark lit the air for a split second.

An electrical baton? Like one of those... stun... things? The kind of weapon the police used sometimes?

"Forget it," said Reno, and sparks started revolving around his arm as he readied to cast a spell—a lightning spell, by the looks of it.

Driven by fear rather than brains, Paige hurled her big knife at him and watched as his Lightning attack unwillingly went for the knife instead—and then the magic followed the knife as it whizzed past Reno. Bright flashes surrounded the weapon as it landed on the floor, then the sparks slowly died. Still watching her, Reno took some quick steps backwards and picked up the knife.

"Ah-" she hear herself utter.

Then she whirled around and ran as fast as she could (with the handcuffs still on, and Reno's stun baton still in hand). She sprinted as if her life depended on it. If he charged that knife with electricity and used it against her, she would be roast beef before she could even point her baton in his general direction.

"Gah!" Paige took a right turn in a long hallway only to end up in a large hall. There were staircases on the left and right sides, and doors and red carpets all over the place. Not knowing what else to do, she went for the closest stairs and charged up them-

Then bright lights were all over the place and she felt tingling stings prickle throughout her body. Paige shut her eyes tight and stopped climbing the stairs. Then the stinging sensation came to an end.

"... Huh?" she muttered under her breath, looking down at er hands. Was that a spell? It didn't exactly hurt too much. At all.

Then...

"Get down here quietly," Reno warned from the base of the stairs. "Or I won't hold back."

Then...

Then, the stun baton deflected lightning magic? This Reno guy probably knew that already. Maybe he thought she didn't know, or wouldn't find out. But wait a minute, she wasn't supposed to know about magic in the first place, right? On the way here, she had claimed she had no idea who Sephiroth was, after all.

"What _was _that?" she asked, breathless, feigning fear and awe as she glanced over her shoulder.

Reno was walking up the stairs calmly.

Then, all of a sudden, the speakers crackled a little and came to life:

"_Yo._"

And there was something weirdly familiar about that voice.

"_Ge-Get that bird out of here!_" a man shouted, and the speakers crackled some more.

"_Hojo! Hojo!_" screeched the first voice, and flapping noise followed. Then a bunch of "_Over there!_" and "_Catch it!_" and "_Turn off the speakers!_" ensued, and Paige couldn't help but gape. Weird and suspicious were the ways of parrots, and even more mysterious were the ways of John Smoth. How had he gotten himself into a room like that? Where was he? A broadcasting room somewhere? Surveillance room? Information desk? Anything like that?

"_Shake it an' move it ova' here!_" he rapped at whoever was following him. "_Damn, it feels good ta be a gangsta'._"

And Reno was standing in the stairs, staring off just like her, looking like he couldn't decide if he should be skeptical or let himself be amused. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he listened.

_Chance._

Holding on to the lightning-deflecting baton for her life, she sprinted down the stairs towards him and jumped into the air, then—just as he turned to her, giving a surprised twist of his mouth—she kicked him square in the chest with both feet. And he went tumbling back, and Paige felt a surge of pride and growing ego and awesomeness, but only until she noticed she was falling, too. And there they were, the two of them, falling in slow motion, while John Smoth was rapping "_Let's get retarded_" through the speakers. Before Paige knew it, she landed on her back in the stairs (with some pain) and rolled down until she was on the floor next to Reno. Then she scrambled to her feet, her back aching. And out of nowhere, another revelation came to her.

The baton she had would protect her from lightning magic, right?  
She had taken the baton from Reno, who used lightning magic.  
If Reno no longer had the baton, _he_ was _not_ immune to lightning magic.

And the baton she had taken from him gave off sparks every time she pressed the button that was on it. Now she knew how to use it.

So when Reno—who was pissed that she had kicked him down the stairs—got to his feet and rushed at her with clenched fists, Paige gave him a very wide, un-karate-ish right hook that connected with his jaw.

And then there were sparks, glints and lightning all over the place, to the point that she was momentarily blinded. When it subsided Reno was one the floor, not moving a muscle, and Paige was overcome with sudden guilt and horror, because he didn't even look like he was alive anymore.

"Err," she said nervously, "Y-You... Reno? Re-Reno? Mister...?"

Then she sat down next to him and remained utterly helpless and terrified (her hands shaking with indecisiveness as to what to do) until she saw that he was breathing. And then she came to her senses and realized he might be faking, and she almost jumped to her feet. Determined to put as much distance between herself and Reno (and Reno's revenge) as possible, she ran back up the stairs and continued, while listening to John Smoth through the speakers: "_What a beautiful day ta be free._"

* * *

Sephiroth descended upon the Shinra Headquarters from above.

Hidden in the utmost north of Russia—whose inhabitants and leaders did not know of Shinra's existence—it remained out of the grasp of all its enemies. Swathed in constant howls and veils of snow and wind, and covered in layers of white ice, with walls made to look like sheer cliffs, it had the appearance of a mountainside just like any other. Except that inside, it was the complete opposite. Everything was high-tech thanks to electricity that was being extracted from the life force of the planet. Although most of the building was underground, there was plenty of room inside. At the moment they were apparently in a rush, though, because outside in the snow, conspicuous helicopters were left alone and unhidden. But that was not important right now.

Soon he would relish in the destruction of this place that had bereaved him of his freedom and his life thus far.

* * *

R.R.

I'm, like, _back_.


	22. Yes

Disclaimer: I do still not own Final Fantasy.

FINALLY (at long last, much?) I've uploaded da LAST chapter of this story! And with it, I've also provided a link on my profile that'll take you to a pic of Paige (how she looks waaay back in the beginning of the story).

But...

On a more serious note...

You heard of how Romeo and Juliet ends?

* * *

Yes

* * *

She couldn't find John Smoth.

Of course, John Smoth couldn't open doors by himself, so he must have hopped into an open door somewhere. But the door to whichever room he had entered had been shut now, by the sound of it—none of the people in there intended to let him go.

"_I've got hi-_" sounded the crackling speakers on the walls. Then: "_Gaah!_" from the same speaker (and the same voice), and finally the ever-so-familiar "_Disrespect hip-hop an' I'll spit in you' face._"

On another note, although she hadn't found John Smoth, she _had_ found a whole bunch of other awesome stuff:

A metal pipe (which she could have left behind in favor of several fancy swords, but didn't, since she didn't want to stab or accidentally kill somebody).  
A bulletproof vest (which she could only have over her shoulders, since it was impossible to put on because of her blasted handcuffs).  
A bazillion magic-sphere-materia-things (all of which she left behind, since she had no idea how to use one).

So, half-wearing a bulletproof vest while holding a metal pipe in both hands, Paige waltzed around and hugged walls like a bad imitation of James Bond, occasionally kicking open doors. Her face was stiff all the time—not with tough James-Bond-ishness, nor karate-ishness, but with pee-your-pants-ish-ness. So far, she had knocked out two innocent passers-by with the metal pipe. One had come around a corner, so she had knocked him out and then got the magnificent idea of hiding him inside the nearest room. And in there was guy number two. As a result, she was—at the moment—hiding more than moving. What if somebody found the two unconscious guys?

"_Takin' chances,_" rapped John Smoth over the speakers. "_Your favorite record has got to go._"

Paige almost ran around a corner, but stopped just in time to _not_ be spotted (or hit) by a running infantryman.

If he was running like that, maybe he was heading to where John Smoth was, to see what was going on?

"_I'm hot 'cause I'm fly, you ain't, 'cause you' not,_" John Smoth rapped. Flapping noise was still heard all over the place. The brave, lazy parrot was really standing up against them. Gathering her meagre courage, Paige followed the running infantryman, glad that he didn't pay attention to whatever might be behind him. Before she knew it, he stopped at a door and opened it, then disappeared inside. Paige nearly followed, but realized there might be a lot more than just two or three men in there.

_Guts!_

_Guts, come to me! _

… Though, come to think of it, guts wasn't enough at all, was it?

"_I got my _eye_ on ya,_" rapped John Smoth, sounding closer than before. "_Ass so fat ya can see it from the front,_" he continued.

Slowly, an idea formed in her mind.

She didn't _have to _go in.

Pleased with her partially working mind (after oh-so-long-a-time without sleep), Paige simply opened the door to the room wide, then stepped back and ran away—but only to the closest corner. There she hid for a while, until she heard John Smoth fly outside, with Shinra people at his heels. Carefully she threw a glance around the corner to see which way they were heading.

They were coming straight towards her.

* * *

When Sephiroth stepped down on the snow before the entrance of the headquarters of Shinra, he felt a strange awareness. It was rather like an feeling that made him acutely aware that something was not as it should be. Though his logic argued that _this_ was the most ideal time and place for him to wreak havoc on all things within sight that belonged to Shinra, his sword wavered.

His _mind_ wavered.

Giving an instinctive snarl of a grimace at his own hesitation, he glowered strongly at the closed double doors in front of him.

* * *

"Crap, crap-craa-" Paige said in breaths while swinging the metal pipe like crazy. Maybe she should have learnt swordplay as well as karate. Or fencing. Or film-star-ish kung-fu with nunchakus. Just when did the damsel-in-distress factor _not _work?

"Children o' the sun, watch out, we comin' for ya!" John Smoth called out, though he wasn't doing anything except flap his wings and jump along beside her.

They had run through so many doors and halls and up and down so many stairs she had no clue where the exit was anymore. Right now they were in a spacey room with a currently empty reception desk.

Unfortunately, the men who'd been in the surveillance room with John Smoth had followed them all the way. There were three of them. Two of them wore shirts and ties and didn't look like fighters at all (for which Paige was eternally grateful, and would be for ever and ever), but the third man had a sword. A _sword!_ Fuelled by fear (and a little bit by the fact that John Smoth was at her side), she swung her metal pipe back and forth so vigorously they were keeping their distance for the moment. They hadn't actually attacked yet. And yet here she was, tiring herself out by swinging her weapon like a rabid gorilla.

But then, all of a sudden the sword-guy had had enough, and charged at her.

And Paige mentally begged her luck, her karate skills, her wannabe hero-ishness and other random, yet awesome movie-like qualities to come to her all at once-

The man thrust his sword out, aiming to stab her, and at the same time Paige veered her metal pipe down at his hands with all the force (and fear-power) she could muster.

He grazed her arm at the same time as she crushed his hand.

"_KAAH...!_" he shouted, dropping his sword and clutching his wrist.

"OOW!" Paige screamed at the same time, staring down at her upper arm, certain that the cut was bone-deep. To her surprise—and puzzlement—it was only a teeny-weeny, itty-bitty little cut. Her white shirt had a small, but growing red stain on it, but that was all. And yet, it hurt like her arm had been skewered on a hay fork.

Confused, she glanced up.

The sword-guy—who'd dropped his sword by now—was stepping back, cursing between his teeth while scowling at her. He looked like he was in even more pain than her. One of his hands was red and blue, and looked strange—even a little lumpy and swollen where it shouldn't be. Paige grimaced. The two other men walked past him slowly and eyed her warily. She wanted to say something about unfairness and ganging up, but she could only grit her teeth—her arm still hurt. Why did a small cut have to be so painful? In movies, heroes could fight even when their hands were tied and they had a knife in their back and were full of bullets.

"Step back," said a strange, old-sounding voice. "If you cannot even handle this sort of inept lowlife, you incompetent trash, just get out of the way."

The rusty voice made the three guys freeze, and they looked behind them to the man who stood there, right by the empty reception desk. Paige squinted. The man wore glasses and a white coat. His back was hunched and his face bore all the traces of a man who had long since committed his life to work and duty. He was no taller than her, and his shoulders no broader, and his skin was even sicklier than hers was back when her anemia was at its worst. He moved slowly, too. Paige narrowed her eyes at this man who looked so weak, but who had easily silenced the three men who had been a threat to her. Was he Shinra's final boss, or something? The man pulling all the strings?

Then John Smoth started squawking and flapping his wings like crazy, and he tried to fly away. He didn't get far, and before long he looked like he'd gone crazy, because once second he flew to the right, next he skipped to the left, and then he stumbled back, his wings beating all the while.

When Paige left the parrot to his business and looked ahead again, the three men were already scampering away, their faces showing both wariness and distaste when they went past the small man.

"Who are you?" Paige demanded suspiciously. Surely a man this small couldn't be a threat. Unless he had bodyguards who were seconds away.

"Don't open your mouth to me, vermin."

Paige shot him a glare, and was about to retort, but...

But something flashed—not brightly, but something definitely did flash, and a moment later, many thin lines glowed on one of the walls, shaped like a rough square. And before she knew it, there was a terrible, screeching, crumbling sound as the part of the wall that was inside the square parted from the rest of the wall and fell into the room. At the same time, big parts of the wall and the roof above the hole started to crumble. From where she was standing, it looked as if the entire building might collapse. And there was nowhere to run, and no way she could shut out the noise—and there was really no way to tell if _they _weren't the ones moving and the broken parts of the building were still, and suddenly nothing made sense, because smoke and dust was all over the place, and the building trembled and rolling pieces of concrete made it impossible to move around. The floor shook so much Paige had to sit down so as not to fall. Part of her wanted to look—and then she did—and when she looked, she regretted and averted her eyes, then covered her head and thought of John Smoth, and of the thin man with the white coat, and the men who had brought her here, and the home they had taken her from, and even Sephiroth, for a long second.

As the rumbling chaos came to a stop there was smoke everywhere. A thin layer of grey dust was all over her once white shirt, and her black jeans, and in her light, uncombed hair. When she opened her eyes she had to blink repeatedly for the dust to get out of her eyes.

But the building was still standing. Or else she'd have been dead already.

"No surprise, I should say," she heard the sickly glasses-man say. "An army of one, as usual."

He... He wasn't talking about _her_, right?

When she saw something in her peripheral vision—despite the dusty smoke—Paige's heart skipped a beat. Through the smoke she saw John Smoth jump around, covered in gray dust. He looked like a fat, gray pigeon. Squawking miserably, the parrot rustled its feathers. Paige sighed with relief—better with a pat pigeon than a parrot squished under half a building.

Remembering the man with the white coat, she scrambled to her feet and coughed some before getting an overview.

To her left, the reception desk. Still empty, and undamaged, but full of dust.

To her right were pieces of concrete and girders that had once been a part of wall (and some parts of the roof). Speaking of which, a cold wind was already making its way in from the huge opening, and as was the snow—which reminded her exactly where they were. In the north of Russia. She doubted the authorities knew about this place.

Right in front of her was the man with the white coat.

And...

And-

Well, at this point, she could hardly be surprised anymore, but her logic still refused to see the truth. Therefore, she chose to categorize the other thing in front of her as an _elf-prince-who-may-or-may-not-be-an-elf-prince-because-his-demeanor-suggests-that-he-might-as-well-be-an-esper-or-some-other-superhuman-creature-whose-strength-and-good-looks-are-so-superior-they-must-be-on-crack._ Or maybe she should just call him a cosplayer, since that took less brain power.

Nevertheless, not too far away from the lab coat man stood a silver-haired man who—despite all her efforts—still managed to make her happy by just _being _there.

And he was looking straight at her.

_Mask._

Shock.

_Mask, mask, mask._

Right now, she was not in a state to do anything except show her most mask-dominated face ever. She would have to take her mask to a new level—extend its deadpan passiveness to her voice, if she could.

"Hojo!" screeched John Smoth, and the attention of the silver-haired man (who she still refused to name, even in her mind) snapped to the bird, and he scowled. Really _scowled. _Then he turned back to her slowly, deliberately.

* * *

For a reason he could not begin to comprehend, he was seeing two rather inconveniently familiar faces.

That parrot.

And—And _her_.

For the longest time he grasped for a reason as to why they might be here, but he found none, and so he continued to watch the face of that woman, scrutinized those eyes of ice she had, as if scowling might help him find the reason.

And she looked as cold as he felt.

Was it anger, this cold sensation that ran in his veins? But had he not learned through first-hand experience that with his fury came only scorching flames?

Expressionless still, she took a slow step back.

* * *

If she wanted to come with a hilarious, deadpan remark, now was definitely the time. But she couldn't come up with anything to say. No, not just that, she was completely without a clue as to what to_ do_ altogether_. _

Even standing still seemed wrong.

So she _ran_.

She ran_, _all right, ran like her life depended on it. And come to think of it, judging by that frosty glare Sephiroth had when he looked at her, maybe running away was the best idea. The most reasonable thing to do. The whole room was filled with large, scattered pieces of concrete and broken glass—parts of the building—left by Sephiroth's sword, or maybe one of his magic spheres (were they called materias?). From the hole in the wall, the frosty wind flowed inside freely, and with it came snow. It was nothing against the already frigid atmosphere, though—behind her, Sephiroth and the other man weren't talking at all. They didn't make a sound, so they couldn't be fighting, either. Paige didn't want to look over her shoulder to check what was going on. If she was being followed, she'd panic and do something stupid.

Then again, maybe she ran away just to see who would follow.

Clenching her fists as she ran, she headed for the closest staircase.

"_Hojo!_" screeched John Smoth from the far end of the room, and her heart skipped a beat. If she left him behind now, she'd have to come back for him later. Maybe if she got him to follo-

But before she knew it, something barrelled into her side and sent her rolling on the floor. Half blinded by dust and somewhat disoriented by the suddenness of the attack—if that was what it was—Paige got up on her knees and tried to look around. Her shoulder hurt, but was all right, surprisingly. Her ribs on the same side felt sore, though. Swallowing, and listening to John Smoth yell "Hojo!" in the background, she calmed her face while the smoke cleared up.

But when she saw Sephiroth and the lab coat-man, they were standing just where they'd been standing minute ago.

The scientist-like man bent his head and shook it a little, sighing as he did.

"And _why_, exactly, is it that you suddenly feel the need to prevent me from ridding us of a nuisance like that, Sephiroth?" demanded the lab coat man, his voice thick with disapproval. Paige guessed that by _'nuisance', _he meant her. She also guessed—by his speech—that he was some sort of intellectually superior being in the food chain that was Shinra. What she couldn't guess, however, was how she had just been attacked, and why (or if) Sephiroth (judging by the scientist man's words) had _saved her_.

"If the two of you are acquainted, I should like to know _how?_" the glasses-man continued, his voice laced with disgust, his mouth curling in a contemptuous sneer. Then he turned to her, his black eyes stabbing hers with hate that seemed almost solid. Watching him made her feel cold and numb inside. For no reason she could comprehend, he loathed her, _detested her, _for having anything to do with Sephiroth. For a second she wanted to turn to Sephiroth for help—he could handle things better than her for sure—but then she remembered the circumstances the last time they met (or _parted_).

So she cleared her voice instead.

"I kinda thought I knew him," she said in a low voice, looking down. The peak in the scientist-ish man's angry mood was nearly tangible. It was best to keep her face and voice blank.

"But don't worry. I'll probably die pretty soon." _By the hands of Shinra, or some other way. _Now her voice was as dull as her eyes were cold. "That's what he wants, after all. For my death to come around."

And when she glanced at the man with the lab coat this time, his face had changed into how it had looked earlier—like he was looking at trash. No hatred, only distaste.

But she didn't dare to look at Sephiroth

* * *

To think there would come a time when the words of another could trouble him to this extent.

Sephiroth had never expected her to speak such words; to be this serious. Her death was, indeed, what he had been _expecting_, although as a consequence of leukemia, and not as a result of a slash of his Masamune against this building, or even by the magic of the professor before him. Granted, one might venture to say that Sephiroth had stayed with Paige with the only excuse being "I will allow myself to stay by her side, but only until she dies."

But her death had never been something he _desired_.

_For Hojo to make her speak such words..._

"As I thought. Just another insignificant fool," said the twisted man, watching Paige.

_For Hojo to address her like that..._

"If what she said is true, why don't you dispose of her now?" Hojo suggested, his voice thick with distaste.

Sephiroth's vision went red as rage rippled down his spine and surged through his veins. At Hojo's words his left hand clenched around the Masamune and his senses sharpened. This time, if the professor sent a spell at Paige, he would not hold back.

"You aspire to harm her?"

_You aspire to harm that woman, who is mine?_

"Or do you perhaps intend to kill her?" Sephiroth asked darkly, wearing a scowl as he raised his sword.

Hojo watched him silently, the way one might look at somebody who completely and utterly failed to do what one had first expected of them.

"... So this is what it looks like when a woman has a man wrapped around her little finger," said the man, his voice dull, coated with languid sarcasm.

He was about to retort, but Paige spoke before him.

"Who's got _who _wrapped around her little finger!" shouted Paige, apparently forgetting her mask for a second, but she quickly calmed again and cleared her face. "Just so you know, even if I use a machine gun, or a bulldozer, or a tanks, and Sephiroth uses a spoon, or even a feather, he'll defeat me before I can say the H in _help,_" she deadpanned. Then she added while pointing at Hojo, "And you too, for that matter." Frankly, Sephiroth found he rather enjoyed himself when he heard her speak like this—like she should always speak.

"Hojo," squawked John Smoth, flapping his wings tiredly. Ignoring the bird, Hojo glanced over to Sephiroth, who took one step closer.

"What a pity, for your life to be handed to me..." Sephiroth spoke. "This easily." Then he stepped forward again and started walking, his strides taking him closer to the professor faster than the older man could retreat.

"Like a fiend for his queen," muttered the scientist, repulsed, as he produced a materia from one of his pockets and activated a protective spell around himself, in the nick of time. Sephiroth's longsword cut at him, but left only a crack in the shell—a crack that soon recovered. Naturally, it had to be a spell Hojo had kept for himself in the case of a situation like this.

"More effort, Sephiroth. If you want to kill me, you have to try harder," Hojo chided as he jumped back—fast, despite his age. Sephiroth suspected it had something to do with the man's experimenting. Still it seemed too easy. Even with Hojo's protective spell, all Sephiroth had to do was put in more effort, and Hojo would inevitably die by his Masamune. The professor obviously had something up his sleeve. He was only waiting for the right moment.

And so Sephiroth lashed out, several times so as not to miss, with all the force he could muster.

… So fast and so strong that the slashes of his Masamune carried through the air and all the way to the walls-

To _the walls-_

And there, lines—_cracks_—appeared, and too late, he realized his mistake. For even though _he _could make it out of the building before the it fell apart, Paige had no chance if he left her alone. And as noise akin to thunder ricocheted between the walls in the room—the sound of the building rattling and breaking apart—he was already moving away from the fatally wounded, bleeding, cursing Hojo. Slowly, yet faster every passing moment, the walls crumbled to pieces and came crushing down. And considering the number of floors above them, it would be no easy task to survive if they didn't get out before it was too late.

* * *

Paige stepped around without knowing where to go. She was close to the stairs leading down, but was that such a safe place to go? Did she even have time to head outside through the hole that was already in the wall? She'd have to climb over the pieces of concrete and debris-

"_Paige,_" she heard from a distance, and whirled around.

"_Hah-_" she uttered as Sephiroth's shoulder unexpectedly hit her in the stomach, and the following seconds she couldn't breathe. Sephiroth raced forward with her over one of his pauldron-clad shoulders, first with great strides, then he leapt into the air and headed for the hole in the wall.

"Jo-John _Smoth!_" she managed, urgency in her voice. No matter how you looked at it, he was family. Any pet-owner would understand.

"... Tsch," uttered Sephiroth, his utterance laced with exasperation, but after a short moment of hesitation, he took a big turn and went back in, looking for the dust-covered parrot. And there it was, the lost bird, skipping around on the floor with its wings raised and its beak open, too tired to fly. They flew closer, through the dust that fell from the roof above, and then they slowed to a stop as the bird got within reach, and Sephiroth turned so that Paige could reach the little creature.

The moment she caught the scared bird, the roof gave in and collapsed.

The last thing she saw was an avalanche of concrete filling the hole in the wall that was their only way out.

* * *

Half a day earlier, on the other side of the planet, things were settling down.

At some point the military forces had lost contact with their silver-haired (temporary) ally, but they had managed to get the monsters under control at last. Now most of the beasts were killed and the area was already open to people who wanted to search for their families. The damages were bad in some places, but not irreparable—ruined houses, run-down fences, cars that had been stepped on, and, of course, casualties. Things were not entirely in order yet, however—some were still frantically searching for others, whether they were family members, friends or brothers-in-arms.

Solomon was one of the searchers.

After the beasts outside their house were taken care of by troops, he made his father (who by the way had helped the troops take care of the monsters, and was covered in gore as a result) drive him to Paige's house. He already knew she wasn't there—his friend Bray, Paige's neighbor, had told him so on the phone: she had been taken aboard a helicopter. But he talked his dad into driving to her house anyway. When they got there, Paige's family were all over the place looking for her. Their small dog was barking like crazy, and Paige's little sister was crying. When Solomon came around and told her parents what he'd hear from his friend, things didn't exactly get better.

They insisted for him to come inside (and he brought his dad, although he was somewhat reluctant, since he was dirty after his fights earlier). The news droned on the television in the background—in case they had news of Paige, or the helicopters that had taken her with them.

But no. Nothing.

* * *

Back in the soon-to-be snow-covered ruins of the Shinra Headquarters, there was no sign of life at all.

The movement of the crumbling concrete had stopped at last. Already, atop the broken pieces of the building, a white layer of snow was settling. The night air was made colder by the wind, which crawled into every corner and under every crack between the rocks, and broken girders stuck up in places, like distorted trees in a landscape of stone and steel. Survivors had long since escaped the area in the few helicopters left undamaged; the rest of the vehicles—and a few people, as well, no doubt—lay smashed beneath blocks of concrete. Nobody had stayed to clean up or erase all traces, so as to prevent Russian authorities from finding out about Shinra—it was every man for himself. That might be understandable, considering Shinra had never gone out of its way to help any of its workers.

As such, the place was abandoned; left as an impassable, frosty grave.

And perhaps it was for the best—Shinra was not one of the organizations one might want to rebuild, for many reasons.

Just then a lone rock moved, then rolled down the mountain of rubble, through the newly settled snow. Moments later more rocks followed, and although they were small, the sound of them echoed as they tumbled down to the base of the rubble. From a distance it might not look like anything at all. Closer, though, it was obvious—despite the freezing night temperature—that there was still life to be rescued from the ruins. Three lives, to be specific; a man, a woman, and one rather miserable bird.

"Children o' the sun, watch out, we comin' for ya," rapped John Smoth, sitting—of all places—in Paige's shirt.

Paige was too cold to answer.

There was nothing but boulders within their short line of sight. The weak night light that made its way down to them through the clouds was too weak for them to see the mountains beyond. Sephiroth, for one, had broken his wrist in his attempt to hold onto the Masamune, and he had not released it even then—and it had taken all his strength to keep himself from buckling under the weight of the rocks. He had shielded Paige with his body. The pain had kept him conscious until he broke their way out. Magic had its uses, even when one was trapped under tons of concrete, it seemed. It might have been easier—and faster—to get out without Paige and her pet parrot, but as it were, he found he was quite unwilling to leave her behind.

She sat in front of him, with dust in her light hair and dirt on her pale face, breathing plumes of air and hugging her knees to keep warm, careful not to squeeze John Smoth. To his surprise, she was still wearing the handcuffs he had seen on her earlier—he confessed he had forgotten about them. Instead he had gone to great lengths to keep her unharmed, and from what he could tell, he had succeeded—so far. It was still freezing.

"Paige," he said under his breath. She looked up at him, clenching her teeth to keep them from clattering.

"Your hands," he beckoned, and she glanced down before stretching out her arms.

Sephiroth had no Restore materia with which to heal himself, but even with his wrist broken, he would not clumsily cut her with his Masamune. Cautiously holding her arms, he cut off the handcuffs, then listened as they clattered against the stones after he threw them away. Their landing was muted by the snow.

"A-Are you all right?" she asked, stuttering because of the cold. "Or...?"

_All right?_

What a foolish think to ask.

"If you had died," he started, but immediately thought better of it. He would speak no soft words. "Your death... I will not have it." He scowled at her when he spoke. Her response did not come in the shape of a frightened face, but rather a warm blush. As one might expect, it was something to be appreciated, considering everything else within miles was freezing cold.

Gathering energy, he found a materia and called on a fire spell. The flame immediately settled at their side and grew larger, warmth pulsing through the air.

When she held her arms out to warm herself, her hands were shaking. Although _she _was the one trembling with cold, he felt struck.

Upon noticing his eyes on her, Paige pulled away from him a little—which made him feel worse.

By now it was clear to him that he wanted to stay close to her.

It was such a ridiculous notion that he frowned deeply at it and turned his head up, but then again—it seemed to him even more ridiculous to shrug off that emotion like it were a nuisance. He was no child.

Nor was Paige.

But...

"It's so _cold!_" Paige managed to speak through clattering teeth, moving her arms (with wrists bruised from the handcuffs) around her knees. As if to remind them of his presence, the parrot's head peeked out of her shirt as he said, "Yo." As soon as he got a taste of the chilly wind, however, he ducked back in.

"_Cold!_" repeated Paige in an annoyed, loud whisper.

His wrist was broken—from holding onto his Masamune even as the building fell down on them.

His back was full of gashes—from the boulders and blocks of concrete that had worked against him in his struggles to get them out of the rubble.

And frankly, he, too, was cold.

Yet he found himself quite content with the way things were right now, with his blade within reach and this woman by his side. As he quietly lit another fire with his magic, he wondered by himself what she was thinking about. How did she feel right now?

* * *

_Happy._

Physically she felt like a block of ice taking a chilly bath in the ocean around the North Pole. But inside she felt really warm, darn it—so hot and cuddly it freaked her out. So while her body was cold and her feelings were warm, her mind was a brilliant mix of something that vaguely reminded of questions, memories, confusion and _maybe _reason. She was all right, Sephiroth was all right (by the looks of it) and John Smoth was all right ("You my lady, I'm ya' man.").

_Happy._

Darn straight, she was happy.

_Happy._

All over the place.

If she was lucky, nobody back home would notice that she'd been gone. Not even her family. But only if she was lucky. Speaking of her family, she hadn't even told them about her 'leukemia' yet. Oh, how she wanted to see their faces when she told them. Her dad would be so shocked his moustache might fall off. Her mum would probably cry, and her brother would be happy, too, and he might even make them all some fireworks to prove it. Her little sister wouldn't understand much, but she'd probably be happy too, even if it was just because all the others were happy. And their ever-barking dog, Chilli, would bark twice as much as usual, bark like a barking machine gun, maybe, when she saw John Smoth. As for Solomon... That guy could go do whatever he wanted. Marry Sierra, the ultimate great hero special School Princess, and get ten kids and live happily ever after and stuff. Paige had everything she needed.

_Happy._

Or at least _almost _everything she needed.

* * *

Just as he was about to ask how Paige was feeling, she spoke up:

"I'm happy." She looked up at him, her face radiant at first, then it faded some. "But I'd be happier if... Well, if..." She trailed off—apparently not intending to finish the sentence. Or perhaps not daring to. She did hold his eyes, though, however weak her gaze was compared to his.

He gave her a long, measuring look, his eyes slightly narrowed. The longer he watched her, the more her joy seeped from her face; the longer the silence between them lasted, the more uncertain she appeared, until she finally looked away, frowning.

Uncertainty?

He would have no such thing.

Deliberately, he moved closer to her over the few stones that separated them. Before she could do anything to prevent him, he took her chin and made her look at him.

"I should like to stay by your side."

* * *

… Only after a brief short-circuit of her heart and temporary malfunction of her brain, Paige was able to understand what he was saying.

"I'd like that," she said, feeling a little awkward, but smiling nonetheless.

Then she dared something she would never ever have dared to do almost one year ago—something that (if it had been suggested to her at the time) would have seemed impossible, absurdly stupid and unimaginably _I-want-to-be-murdered_-ish at the same time:

She went ahead and kissed him.

And then, as if she were a criminal who had just committed an unthinkable crime, she pulled away and stared at Sephiroth, somewhat like a child might gape at her parents after doing something she wasn't sure if she was allowed to do. By the look on his face, though, she had apparently caught him a little off guard. But before she knew it, he was giving her one of his flashiest smirks, a wry grin of a thing that made him look more dangerous than happy, really.

But he got the gist of it.

She was happy.

And...

So was he.

* * *

The End

* * *

(Don't worry, I'm sure they'll get home safely.)

Ai lav yu gais.


End file.
